A Return to the Normal He Never Had
by SarahBeth-cymru
Summary: Set after the last chapter of Deathly Hallows and before the epilogue, Harry is left to deal with the aftermath of the Final Battle and his changing relationships with his friends and the girl he loves. Please read and review if you have the time! x
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – Listening.

Harry sat against the old apple tree, his legs stretched out in front of him, his eyes closed. He was listening.

The tree was near the furthest boundary of the Burrow's garden, and looked down onto a lazy, tricking stream. The sound of the water playing over the rocks was peaceful and calming, and mingled with the various Weasley voices that drifted over from the house, and the birds that his in the bushes nearby.

It was one of the most still and gentle moments that Harry had known in the last two years. He hardly dared open his eyes for fear that the scene would disappear if he did, so he sat, eyes closed – listening.

He had discovered this spot on his first day back at the Burrow, over a week ago, and had spent a great deal of time sitting there, listening to the sounds of life around him and letting his mind wander around the events of the last few months. He set no limits on his thoughts, and his mind flickered form one memory to the next, with no discernable pattern or rhythm, the images coming to him unbidden and uncontrolled. Every now and then, one lone thought would rise up within him and seize him bodily until he could barely breathe, and threatened to take him over entirely.

It was over.

Voldemort was dead.

He was free.

And when he could catch his breath again, it came ragged and uneven, with a racing heart and a tremble in his hand.

In those moments, he was glad he was alone under the tree, where no one could see him struggle to retain his composure, and calm the thumping in his chest.

Today, he was even more appreciative of his sanctuary than ever before. He took off the black tie that had been attempting to cut off his air supply all day, and undid the uppermost buttons of his shirt, and was finally able to breathe a little more easily.

The had buried Fred that morning.

Harry had watched the family he loved hurt. They hurt in a way that was achingly familiar to him, and his heart seemed to constrict a little more with every tear he saw. The weight of his guilt threatened to crush him, until he could watch no longer, and he left for the haven of his tree.

Which is where he sat now, leaning against the trunk, with closed eyes. Listening.

'Are you still hiding out here?"

Harry opened his eyes to find that Ginny had materialized and was sinking onto the grass beside him.

"I'm not hiding," he muttered.

"Well, you've been disappearing out here every day since you arrived at the Burrow, for hours at a time."

He looked at her questioningly. "How did you know that?"

She smiled, gazing out at the stream and the fields that stretched out behind it.

"This is my spot. It's where I sit when that lot in there are driving me loopy." She motioned back towards the house. "I came out here, the day we arrived home, and there you were. I didn't want to disturb you; you obviously wanted to be alone…"

"Sorry, Ginny – I should've guessed… I suppose I'd better let you have it back," said Harry, as he began to stand.

She put her hand on his arm, and he immediately froze.

"Don't be daft! I don't mind sharing."

They smiled at each other, and Harry settled back into a more comfortable position.

Neither spoke for a few moments, as they listened to the trickle of the stream.

"So…" Ginny began, "I'll ask again - why are you hiding out here?"

For a second, Harry struggled to formulate an answer – God, she could be blunt sometimes - and the thought made him want to smile and frown at the same time.

"I… I just thought… maybe you'd all want some time together, just family… what with everything."

Ginny leaned her head back against the bark and closed her eyes, sighing.

"Harry, you ARE family."

"You know what I mean…"

"Yeah, I do – and it's rubbish. Try again. Truth, this time."

He looked at her. Her eyes were still closed.

So why could she still see right through him?

When he answered, his voice was quite. "How can I sit in there and watch you all grieve, knowing it's all my fault?"

She sat up and looked at him, and for a very real moment, he thought she might hit him. Her eyes blazed and pink spots appeared on the apples of her cheeks.

"You idiot."

He looked down at the tie in his hands. He dared not look up at her. He didn't think he could face her anger, however justified it might be.

"Do you honestly think that there is a single person in that house that blames you for this? Harry! Look at me!"

Her blazing eyes swam before him.

"I'm not going to pretend that I know what you're going through, and I'm not going to pretend that I can make you feel better – but I won't let you think that of yourself! I won't let you think it of us! You SAVED us, Harry. I f it wasn't for you, we'd have all died in that castle. Every one of us. And not one of us blames you for Fred's death. Or Remus, or Tonks, or any of them."

Harry nodded. "I just… I still feel so guilty."

"I know that. But YOU are the only person that that holds YOU responsible. You need to remember that. Alright?"

She placed her hand gently on his arm. He felt the warmth of it through the thin fabric of his shirt and swallowed as hard as he could to dislodge the lump that mysteriously appeared in his throat.

"So… are you coming in?"

He sighed, and nodded again.

They stood, together, and walked slowly towards the house. The closer they got, the slower their pace became, until they came to a stop in front of the door. \

"Thanks, Ginny."

"It's alright."

For a long moment, they looked at each other, until a loud raucous laugh made them turn towards the entrance.

They chuckled.

"Quite lively in there, aren't they?" He motioned inside.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Well, this is a Weasley funeral! I think you'll find it rather different to Remus and Tonks'. It's our Fred, after all!"

As she spoke, the door opened, and Charlie's face appeared around the corner. He was smiling and flushed – the dark circles under his eyes were the only sign of the pressures of the last weeks.

He grinned at them, and then called back over his shoulder, "I don't know, George, what do you think? Is it dark enough yet?"

George peered over Charlie, up at the sky. His eyes were red-rimmed, but he was smiling – albeit a little sadly.

"It's only just dusk, but it should be perfect by the time we get everything outside."

The two Weasley's pushed past Harry and Ginny carrying boxes, and were followed by Ron and Bill, lugging a table between them.

Mrs Weasley bustled behind them, calling, "Oh, there you are! Harry, be a dear and grab some chairs, would you Ginny, if you could bring out the drinks and glasses…"

Before they had a chance to answer, the rest of the family began trooping in and out of the house, levitating trays of drinks, carrying chairs and chatting amongst themselves.

After twenty minutes of fetching and carrying what Harry assumed was the entire contents of the Burrow's ground floor, everyone had settled themselves around the table in the garden. The sky, which had been slowly darkening, was now a rich, royal blue, and George seemed ready to begin.

He stood in front of them all, wand in hand, and began to speak.

"Okay, everyone. We're here tonight to say goodbye to our Fred. He was… a great business partner, a talented wizard, a truly wonderful brother…" His voice cracked but his gaze remained steady. "…and a rather handsome chap, even if I do say so myself!"

Harry looked around at the chuckling crowd of Wesley's and honorary Weasley's.

Hermione was leaning against Ron, and wiping her face on her sleeve, and Harry smiled when he noticed Ron's arm around her waist.

"He was the other half of me, my best mate – and I'm going to miss him more than I could ever tell you. And I can never tell you how proud I am of him."

Tears were openly falling now, but he continued speaking. "He died fighting for what we all believed in and he did it with a smile and a laugh. He would never forgive me if I didn't give him a proper send-off, so here we are…Ladies and gentlemen, I cordially invite you to … Fred's Lat Hoorah!"

With that, he pointed his wand at the pile of boxes, and a spark of scarlet red flew skywards, exploding into a dozen different colours.

All at once, the boxes came alive, shooting coloured stars into the evening sky, that danced and shimmered for a few moments, before exploding again.

The small crowd gasped and laughed, watching the colours zoom around the sky, before drawing into one brilliant point.

With a loud bang, the point of light exploded into a huge red and gold Gryffindor lion. It raised its enormous head to the heavens and roared with a ferocity that shook the table they sat at.

The lion swooped down to ground level, running at the group and leaping over them, before flying into the sky. There, all the colours glistened and sparkled before changing shape, and arranging themselves into the three interlocking "W"s that made up the logo of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

It hung there for a second before the colours rearranged themselves one last time, into a beautiful scarlet and gold phoenix. It called out to them in its beautiful ethereal voice, before soaring upwards, higher and higher, until they couldn't see it anymore.

The group burst into applause, laughing and sobbing in equal measure, as they watched the bird disappeared.

George was roughly wiping away his tears and clapping harder than anyone else.

"That was for you, mate. Hope you approved of it." He raised his glass of Firewhiskey, "To Fred!"

"To Fred!" they echoed.

"Right then!" he called. "Let's get drunk!"

Harry laughed and refilled his glass. He gazed around at the mourners, before catching Ginny's eye. They smiled at one another, and for the first time, Harry really felt that he may be alright after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Waiting.

Harry sat beneath the old tree, waiting. It was warmer than it had been for months, and although the sun sporadically hid amongst the clouds throughout the day, it was a pleasure to be outside.

He breathed in the smell of grass and sunshine, half expecting the delicate scent of freesias that he had come to associate with Ginny.

She had said that she didn't mind sharing her spot under the tree with Harry – he'd taken that to mean she may join from time to time, and in hope, he had taken an old blanket outside with him for them to sit on.

Just in case.

He'd seen her that morning, clearing up some of the debris from the previous night. Everyone had stayed up until the early hours, talking drinking and singing. Ron and Hermione had drifted off before any of the others (Harry was not quite ready to think about where they had disappeared to, or what they had been up to – he'd think about that another time) and they'd been followed by Bill and Fleur. When Harry had left for bed just before two, everyone else had remained.

She'd looked tired, he thought. And pale. He'd wanted to scoop her up and tuck her into her bed, and stroke her hair until she slept. He wanted to erase that look of exhaustion.

Of course, they all shared a similar expression these days.

Mrs. Weasley, in particular.

And George.

In an instant, that crushing sensation of guilt and sorrow flooded Harry's chest again.

Poor George.

He breathed deeply and tried to clear his mind again. He went back to his hopeful waiting.

It wasn't long before he was rewarded. He heard soft footfalls approaching from behind him, and then came that smell – soft freesias and honey.

He looked up and her and smiled.

"Room for a little one down there?"

He murmured something incomprehensible and shuffled over slightly, and Ginny sat beside him.

Harry was acutely aware of the thumping in his chest. It's just Ginny, he reminded himself. Calm down. He remembered all the stolen hours they had spent together in his last summer of Hogwarts – by the lake, in deserted corridors… The thoughts did nothing to calm him.

"You don't mind me joining you, do you? I had to get out of the kitchen – Mum's delegating jobs left, right and centre and it seems I'm the only person left around to delegate to! The boys have vanished and Ron and Hermione disappeared together after lunch."

Harry laughed. "Yes, I can imagine they did!"

Ginny's eyebrows shot up. "You mean –"

"Yep!"

"They're…"

"Yeah, they are – and about bloody time, too!"

She smiled at him. "They are perfect for each other, aren't they? It's been building up for ages – it makes you wonder why it's taken them so long to actually get it together…"

As the words left her lips, her eyes met Harry's and they paused. Everything that had been left unsaid hung in the air between them.

His heart hammered whilst his mind screamed at him, Tell her! Tell her how much you've missed her!

But the words seemed to get stuck somewhere between his brain and his mouth, which worked open and closed for felt like an eternity.

She looked away, and the moment was lost to him.

Probably not the best time, anyway, he thought, the day after her brother's funeral. Probably better this way.

"When did this happen, anyway?" she asked.

"In the Room of Requirement, not long after we got to Hogwarts. Ron said something about evacuating the house elves to safety, and Hermione jumped on him! I practically had to rip them apart and remind them we were in the middle of a battle!"

Ginny laughed, and Harry's heart leapt.

God, he had missed seeing her smile!

"Well, I think it's great! Especially now. Ron's never been very good at talking about his feelings or any of that stuff – he'll need someone to get him talking… after everything…" she trailed off.

The sun had dipped behind a cloud, as if sensing the changing tone of the conversation.

"So, how are you feeling, today?" he asked her.

She seemed careful not to meet his eye, and her voice sounded forced when she answered.

"Oh, you know… tired. Yesterday was hard – for all of us."

"You seemed really strong," Harry ventured.

She smiled, ruefully. "I don't really do crying. I sometimes wish I did, though – maybe it wouldn't feel as if I'd swallowed a Quaffle."

She turned to face him, her hand on her chest.

"I can feel it stuck here, you know what I mean? It's like all those feelings are trying to escape but they get stuck – here."

He nodded, not really sure what to say. He was certain she wanted to say more, so he waited.

"Mum hasn't stopped crying. And George – he's trying so hard to be normal, even though you just know his heart is broken…. It's not like I can talk to them about how I feel. I've barely seen Ron – and I know why now – and as for the others… I suppose, I just don't know what it is I'm meant to be doing."

He waited a beat before saying, "Join the club."

The smiled at each other, and went back to looking at the view.

Ginny broke the silence. "Have you seen the scorch marks on this tree? Fred and George did that."

Harry craned his neck to see.

"When I was ten, they practiced cursing apples that were balancing on my head. They missed a few times, hence the burns. Mum came out and saw them and went absolutely mental!"

She was laughing now at the memory.

"She all but dragged them down to the Ministry and made them own up to under-age magic use! Another time, they bewitched one of my dolls so that it would cry and scream every time I went near it! I was only little – I thought my toys hated me! The sods!"

As she talked, her eyes had filled with tears and with her laughter, they had begun to fall. Still beaming, she wiped her cheeks and sighed deeply.

"I'm really going to miss him."

"I know. We all will."

She laughed again, sweeping the hair out of her eyes. "Maybe I do do crying after all."

" 'S'okay – I don't mind." It wasn't okay at all. He wanted to grab her and kiss away her tears and make sure she never had cause to cry again.

They lapsed into a companionable silence again, and again it was Ginny that broke it.

"So… what are your plans, Harry? Now that it's all over."

He shook his head, incredulous.

"I honestly have no idea. I'm not sure what I'm going to do tomorrow, let alone for the rest of my life! I'm just going to think for a while, and hope that the answers pop up! I know what I'm going to do right now, though…"

"What's that?"

"I'm going to see Mrs. Tonks and Teddy. I barely saw her at the funeral, and I haven't met Teddy at all yet."

Immediately, her eyes lit up. "Do you mind if I come too? I haven't seen Teddy for a little while."

Harry must have looked confused, as she added, "When I didn't go back to school after Easter, Tonks would bring him over most days to visit, and to keep us up to date on news from the Order. I got to know him quite well."

Thrilled at the prospect of spending more time with Ginny, he stood and nodded enthusiastically.

"One problem – I can't Apparate yet," she said.

"It's fine; you can Side-Along Apparate with me. Here, take my arm…"

She tentatively put here hand on his forearm.

"You might want to hold on tighter than that," he mumbled, and Ginny closed he fingers around his wrist.

He closed his eyes, and with a loud crack, they disappeared.

When they appeared in the garden of the Tonks' house, Harry had a split second to see Ginny lose her balance and wrap his arms around her before she fell to the ground.

"Oh my gosh, how do you ever get used to that?!" she gasped.

"It's not so bad when you do it yourself – promise."

Almost simultaneously, they both released that Harry was still holding her, and they blushingly righted themselves, with some throat-clearing and floor staring.

They knocked on the door, and Andromeda Tonks answered with a cry of joy. She gathered them in to her in an enormous hug, almost crushing them.

"Harry – Ginny – it is so lovely to see you," she said, her voice muffled by the hug.

She released them and regarded them from arms' length.

"Come in, both of you, come in!"

They settled themselves on the sofa in the comfortable, cluttered sitting room.

"How are you, Mrs. Tonks?" Harry enquired, knowing full-well that it was a ridiculous question. Andromeda's red-rimmed eyes and pinched expression told him everything he needed to know, but somehow the question had popped out of its own accord.

"Better, thank you, Harry. The funerals were harder than I'd imagined, but now they're over, I'm starting to get into a bit of a routine, and that's helping," she sniffed.

"I'm sorry I didn't have a chance to speak to you at the funeral, but what with all the press and the Aurors…"

"Oh, dear boy, don't apologise! It's perfectly alright."

Harry felt his breath become shaky, and the familiar vice around his heart constricted as he prepared to say what it was he had come to say.

"I just wanted to say how sorry I am for everything, and I completely understand if you don't want me to have anything to do with Teddy –"

The concern was evident on her face. "Harry, whatever do you mean?"

He struggled to keep his voice steady. "Well, it's my fault isn't it? All of it. You've lost your whole family, near enough, and it's because of me. So I'll understand if you want me to keep my distance from Teddy and let you get on with your lives…"

"Now, stop it!" she interrupted sternly, and for a fleeting moment, Harry could see again the resemblance between her and Bellatrix Lestrange, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"This is not your fault." She said it slowly, as if talking to a child. "Nobody blames you for any of this, Harry – not a bit, and I'm sure this young lady has said as much herself."

She glanced at Ginny, who said nothing, but shrugged her shoulders as if to say, I've tried.

She continued, "If anything, I owe you a debt of gratitude. Who do you think they would have come for next? My grandson – a 'half-breed'." Her lips curled into a snarl as she sneered the word. "If you hadn't stopped them when you did, he would've been next, and I really would have been alone."

She paused in order to regain control of her emotions.

"You've saved so many lives, Harry. Don't waste yours by feeling guilty. It would be an insult to their memories."

He could do nothing but nod. His voice had disappeared, and the tears that he had held at bay for so long threatened to surface. The icy grip on his heart felt tighter than ever and if he dared to try to speak, he knew that his last ounce of control would desert him and never return.

He waited for Andromeda to speak again, but instead, she placed her hand on his and smiled.

"Now, if I'm not mistaken, it's time for you to meet your godson."

She left the room and quickly returned with a bundle of blankets.

"Harry, I'd like you to meet Teddy."

She perched on the arm of the sofa, and Harry saw a small, round face nestled amongst the wool. He couldn't help but smile at the sleeping bundle.

"His hair… it was blue, in the photo I saw…" His voice had found its way back to him.

Andromeda stroked the downy, brown hair and smiled sadly.

"It's been like this for a few days, now. I think it's his way of showing that he knows what's going on."

The baby sighed contentedly in his sleep.

"Do you want to hold him?"

Harry started. "I've never held a baby – in fact, this is the closest I've ever been to one!"

"Well, it's time you learned, don't you think?" she said, passing him over.

Teddy made a soft, mewling noise at the change of arms but didn't wake. Harry beamed as he grew accustomed to the warmth and the weight of the sleeping child.

"I'll just be a moment…" said Andromeda, leaving the room again.

Harry and Ginny sat quietly, admiring Teddy.

"He's lovely, isn't he?" Ginny spoke for the first time since they arrived.

He nodded, not taking his eyes off him.

He was better than that.

He was wonderful.

He was magical.

He was… hope.

When she returned, eyes redder than before, Andromeda said, "I'd like to keep him here. Harry." Her voice was quiet.

"Of course!" he said, surprised.

"I know you're his godfather, but-"

'No, of course, Mrs. Tonks! I mean, I wouldn't know where to begin with a baby!"

She smiled, clearly relieved "You can visit whenever you want – every day, if you like! I'm just so glad that he's staying!"

Harry looked at her directly. "I'd never take him away from you, Mrs. Tonks."

"I know that, dear."

"I'll set up an account for him at Gringotts – like Sirius did for me – and if you ever need anything at all – "

"Oh, I think we'll be alright, Harry," she said, still smiling.

Harry nodded.

He thought so, too.

And they sat there together, waiting for Teddy to wake.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – Talking.

Harry and Ginny sat beneath the tree, talking.

In the days that had passed since their visit to Andromeda and Teddy, they'd spent hours under the tree together. It had become their ritual. Harry would go first, just after lunch, carrying the old blanket they sat on, and Ginny would follow after an hour or so, and settle herself next to him.

To begin with, neither had said much. They'd listened to the sounds of the stream and the birds, and waited for the light to fade, occasionally interrupting the silence to speak.

But as the days went on, the words came more easily, and although they still paused to listen to the sounds around them, the spaces grew shorter and shorter.

"I've been thinking about what I'm going to do when I leave here."

Ginny tried unsuccessfully to disguise the alarm in her voice. "You're leaving?"

"I thought about it. The house in Grimmauld Place is mine, and it's safe to go back to now… I mentioned it to your mum in passing, but she threatened to use the Body Bind curse on me and lock me in the attic with the ghoul until I came to my senses if I so much as hinted at it again!"

"Thought she might!" she laughed.

"No, I meant I'd been thinking about what I'd do after the summer. Ron and Hermione are talking about going back to Hogwarts and I thought I might do the same."

"Really? Well, we can't very well break up our Golden Trio, now, can we?"

Harry thought he could hear a note of sarcasm in her voice, but he couldn't read her expression, as she picked at one of her fingernails.

"It's not JUST that…" he said.

Her head snapped up and she looked at him hopefully.

"Isn't it?"

"No!"

"What is it, then?"

She was looking at him in that way that made him feel utterly transparent, and it was his turn to examine his hands.

"I mean, of course I'd miss… everyone…" His eyes flickered up at her. "But it seems only fair that I get another chance. I haven't had a single year at Hogwarts without a troll breaking in, or a monster to kill, or some kind of Dark Magic trying to top me…"

They chuckled.

"There's always been SOMETHING, you know? But now it's all over, I just want a chance to be a normal teenager, for once. I want to play Quidditch, and do my NEWTs and spend time with my friends. I feel like I missed out on so much, and I want it. Does that sound selfish?"

"Of course not, you idiot! If that's what you want, you deserve a shot at it. But you do know you're never GOING to be normal, don't you?"

She regarded him, as if seeing him for the first time.

"You're Harry Potter, and you're always going to have a label attached top you, whether it's The Boy Who Lived or the Chosen One or The Saviour of the Wizarding World –"

"Is that the latest one in the Prophet?" he quipped bitterly.

"What I mean is," she said gently, "you're never going to be just 'Harry', are you?"

He looked into her eyes.

"I will be to the people who matter."

Now that they were looking at each other in that way, it took a lot for either of them to look away, but eventually they did.

"Well, if being normal is what you want, I suppose you stand a better chance of it at Hogwarts than you do anywhere else," she said.

They went back to their listening for a while.

"I'm actually quite looking forward to going back," Harry admitted.

"You are?" Ginny asked, surprised.

"Yeah, aren't you?"

She sighed. "You've got to remember, Harry, school was a very different place for us all last year."

He thought about it for a moment. Harry had always seen Hogwarts as a haven, as one of the safest places he knew. Even after the Final Battle, that mental image had remained with him. He had never really considered what had happened in the year he'd been hunting Horcruxes. He's heard some snippets when he was in one of the forests and when they'd arrived in the Room of Requirement, but with everything that followed, he hadn't really thought about it since.

"Was it really bad there?" he asked.

Ginny's face seemed to harden before she answered him.

"It was worse for some than others. Seamus got beaten quite a few times, and I lost count of the number of times the Carrows used the Cruciatus curse on Neville. Not that it ever stopped him from running the Resistance, of course."

She shifted uncomfortably where she sat.

"The Carrows… were just evil. They took pleasure in it – really ENJOYED hurting us. They weren't satisfied until you were sobbing and begging them to stop."

Her lips, normally so pink and soft, had shrunk into a bloodless line and her brow was furrowed.

"I had a nasty run in with them, myself. The man, Amycus, caught me out of bed one night – I'd been trying to get into the Room of Requirement – and he frog-marched me to his office. He left me there on my own for a while, and the longer he was gone, the more frightened I got. When he came back, he didn't do anything straight away. He just started telling me how pretty I was, and how I'd have beautiful Pure Blood babies one day. He started running his fingers through my hair and stroking my neck. I thought I was going to vomit, I was scared. He made me feel so dirty. Then his sister walked in, and he stopped touching me – but it got worse. She put the Body Bind curse on me, and they took turns in using the Cruciatus curse on me."

Harry couldn't breathe. He was shaking with fury and grief for her.

Where had he been when this was happening to her? In some wood, somewhere? Asleep in his tent? And all the time, she'd needed him.

"They let me go after about an hour, once they could see I could barely stand."

When he was able to speak, his voice didn't sound like his own. "Didn't you tell anyone? Your parents?"

She scoffed. "If I'd told them, they would've demanded I came home. I couldn't let that happen – there were people there who needed me. The resistance was the only thing that kept them going – knowing that there were people in the school who were standing up to the regime! I couldn't abandon them, no matter what the Carrows did to me! So, all in all, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to look at Hogwarts in the same way, now."

She tried to smile, although it came out as a grimace.

For a while, there was nothing left to say.

Harry struggled with these new mental images, and the rage bubbling inside him, until he noticed that Ginny was trembling next to him. There were no tears, though. He thought it might have been more bearable if there had been. But Ginny was beyond tears – he doubted she could've cried if she's wanted to.

In the absence of any appropriate words, Harry did the only thing that he could – he took her hand, laced his fingers through hers and held on tightly.

Minutes passed, and although her trembling passed, her grip remained strong.

"It'll be different when we go back, Ginny."

"I know," she sighed. "I'll be fine once I get there."

"And we'll all be with you – we'll be in same year, now, won't we? Luna will be back, as well," he continued.

She gave a small smile.

"I hadn't realized that. We'll be in some of the same classes, I suppose."

"Oh, brilliant – another brainy girl showing me up at every opportunity!"

She laughed, and their somber mood appeared to be broken, for a moment.

"Harry," she said, "I know that you went through an enormous amount last year – Ron and Hermione, too. But you weren't alone. In our own way, we all went through it too. We all battled our own demons right alongside you."

He looked down at their hands, at the way they intertwined so that he couldn't ell which finger belonged to who.

"I think I'm beginning to understand that now."

They lapsed into silence.

Their talking was over for today.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – An Argument.

At the Burrow, it was officially the hottest day of the year. The clouds that had been lurking all summer had finally disappeared and with their departure, the temperature had begun to climb steadily. However, it was only the Muggles who attributed the heat wave to the lack of cloud cover. The wizarding community was very aware of the real reason for the new glorious weather – at long last, the Dementors were back under Ministry control. Having roamed the country for the best part of a year, multiplying exponentially and leeching the positivity out of every one and every thing, Kingsley Shacklebolt had organized a team of Aurors to round them up. They were held now by a number of powerful enchantments at the newly rebuilt Azkaban, and as a result, the cold haze that had hovered in the sky has dissipated at last.

Harry and Ginny sat, just under the shade of their tree, with their feet dangling in the stream.

The improved weather hadn't seemed to affect their mood very much. They tried to keep their conversation light and cheerful, but Harry could tell that Ginny was far away from the garden of the Burrow.

As the days and weeks had passed, the pair had talked, joked, reminisced and carefully avoided any mention of the relationship they'd once had. They tiptoed around the topic, occasionally coming close to it before retreating quickly to a safer subject.

He'd expected that the thrill of their spending time together would decrease, that the racing heart and dry mouth would peter out and give way to a comfortable familiarity. He'd been mistaken.

Occasionally, their conversation had turned to their experiences of the war. Piece by piece, Harry had begun to build a picture of what had happened in the long months they had been apart. It was still too raw to discuss too often, and when they did talk about it, it seemed to drain them, and suck some of the pleasure out of the day. They took it slowly – one painful memory at a time, each person baring a little of their soul to the other, neither really expecting that a real catharsis would ever come.

Harry could always tell when Ginny wanted to talk about one of her memories. She would pick at one of her cuticles and stare at a fixed point, her eyes unseeing, until the words tumbled out, without her seeming to realize it.

That day, when he saw her familiar fidgeting hands, unable to keep still despite the oppressive heat, he knew that there was little point in trying to sustain the small talk, and waited for her to begin.

"I watched a girl die, you know. No, actually, that's not quite right – I felt her die."

Her voice was hollow and flat.

"It was during the Final Battle, when Voldemort had given us an hour to surrender you. Some of us went into the grounds to collect the dead and the injured. I found this girl – she must've been from your year – lying on the grass. It looked like she'd pulled herself out of the rubble and hadn't had the strength to go any further. She was whispering to herself. I knelt down next to her and lifted her head a bit so I could hear her."

Instantly, Harry remembered the scene. He'd walked past them, under the cover of his Invisibility Cloak, and it had taken a superhuman effort not to call out to her. He remembered how much he'd wanted to hold her and the feeling hit him like a punch to the chest, and he felt the urge stronger than ever.

"I thought she'd be fine. She only had a nosebleed and a small scratch. I really didn't think she'd been hurt that badly, but when I lifted her, she sort of whimpered, and I could hear her breathing rattling. She kept saying that she wanted to go home and that she didn't want to keep fighting. All I could do was keep telling her that it would be okay and it would be over soon. I really thought she'd be fine – but the noise in her chest just got worse and worse, and her breathing got shallower… She closed her eyes and stopped whispering after a while, and after a minute or two, she just sort of… sagged. And I knew she'd died."

Her face was expressionless when he looked at her, and it scared and worried him more than if she had been sobbing.

"I felt her die and there was nothing I could do. There was no one around to help and my mind went blank. All I could do was hold her and tell her it would be okay. I felt so bloody useless!"

"Gin, there was nothing you could've done – really – I'm sure just having you there meant a lot to her…"

He wasn't sure she'd heard a word he'd said, and he said nothing more. She had just needed to say the words he was sure had been going around her head for weeks to another person.

They sat in silence for a while. Then suddenly, a thought occurred to Harry.

"It was Lucy. Lucy Medwin, from Hufflepuff." He saw her face clearly in his mind's eye.

Ginny looked at him in confusion. "How do you know?"

Without really thinking about it, he answered, "I saw you. I was under my Invisibility Cloak and I walked past on my way to the Forbidden Forest…" His voice trailed off as he saw the look of realization on her face, quickly followed by one of hurt.

"You saw me on your way to… Oh. Right."

He realized what she was thinking. She knew where he'd been going and what he'd been planning to do. She wanted to know why he hadn't spoken to her, or said goodbye. The look in her eyes was one of total devastation. He reached out a hand to her.

"Ginny-"

She turned her face away. "Gosh, is that the time? I promised I'd help Mum with dinner." She quickly swung her legs out of the water and stood, shoes in hand.

"Gin, hang on-"

"I'd better go – I'll see you later." Without another word, she stalked back to the house, jaw set and eyes hard.

He watched the retreating figure, and swore to himself. She's tried to open up to him and he'd ended up hurting her, instead of comforting her. He didn't think he could've made a bigger mess of that if he'd tried.

He groaned and put his head in his hands.

The Weasleys sat around the kitchen table. At the best of times, eating together had been a cramped affair, but now the heat made it downright uncomfortable. The atmosphere also left a lot to be desired.

Ron sat morosely on one side of the table. Hermione had left that morning to go and find her parents and spend some well overdue time with them, and it seemed Ron was feeling her absence in a big way. He absent-mindedly fiddled with his cutlery, sighing every now and then, steadfastly refusing to make eye contact with anybody.

Mrs. Weasley stood at the stove, dishing out casserole and potatoes, whilst Ginny placed each plateful on the table with a resounding thud. She positively glared at Harry as she slammed his plate in front of him, peas scattering over the placemat.

Harry followed her around the room with his eyes, silently beseeching her to look at him. When she finally did, however, the venom in her eyes made Harry flinch, and he decided it would be much safer to study his meal instead.

The two women eventually sat down, and they all began to eat in silence.

Minutes passed, and the only sound was the scrape of cutlery on china and the tick of the clock on the wall.

Harry could feel Ginny's gaze boring into the top of his head, but he kept his eyes down.

George looked from person to person, trying to work out the cause of the palpable tension. Finally, in an effort to break the silence, he said, "Hermione get off alright, Ron?"

Ron, who'd been pushing a lump of carrot around his plate, finally looked up. "Yeah, fine. She'll be back before we leave for school."

Ginny smiled sweetly at him. "Bet you're really going to miss her, aren't you?"

He sighed, and nodded.

"It's not like it's forever, though, is it? It's only for a week or two," she continued.

She glanced at Harry, who could see where she was headed with her questions.

"I suppose you took the time to say goodbye to each other." She looked pointedly at Harry.

Ron resumed his pursuit of the carrot, oblivious to his sister's glaring at his best friend.

"Mmm, we did. We went for a walk before she left and-"

Harry interrupted, speaking for the first time. "That must have been really hard, Ron. Especially knowing how much you care about each other."

He looked up at Ginny at last, meeting her angry stare.

"Yeah, it was," said Ron, into his plate. "Really bloody hard."

"But you did it, though," Ginny countered. "You said goodbye to her, no matter how hard it was."

Ron frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but Harry jumped in before he had a chance to say anything.

"It wasn't easy, though, was it? In fact, I bet it was the hardest thing you'd ever had to do!"

"Well-" Ron began.

"It doesn't matter how hard it is, you still do it, don't you? You still say goodbye to the people you care about!" Her voice had begun to rise.

"Sometimes you can't!" said Harry, matching her volume, their eyes locked together.

"Really?!"

"Yes! Really!" he snapped back.

Her knife and fork clattered onto her plate. She looked ready to explode at any minute.

Her eyes never left Harry's face as she said, "Thanks for dinner, Mum, but I've had enough!"

With that, she scraped her chair backwards and stormed out of the kitchen.

No one dared speak for a full minute.

Finally, Arthur Weasley cleared his throat and gently said, "I'd go after her, if I were you, son."

Harry looked over at him, face burning with a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment. He hadn't meant to get angry at Ginny, especially not in front of her family.

"I don't know what that was about, but if she's anything like her mother, you'll want to go and sort things out before she REALLY loses her temper!"

"Arthur!" admonished Molly, whilst her sons smirked.

Harry smiled, grateful for the advice, and followed her.

As he left, he heard a bemused Ron ask, "At what point did that stop being about me and Hermione?"

George chuckled, "I don't think it ever was, mate!"

Harry caught up with her near the orchard. He was sure she heard him jogging up behind her but she refused to turn around.

"Whatever it is you've got to say, Harry, now is not the time!"

She continued her furious march past the rows of trees.

"Well, that's tough!" he said, matching his strides to hers. "Because I think I've got the right to try and explain myself."

She came to a sudden halt and spun round to face him.

"Explain?! Alright, explain it to me! You walked past me that day, knowing full well you were seeing me for the last time, that it was your last chance to say goodbye, that you were going to DIE – and you didn't say a word! Not a word! I think that tells me everything I need to know, but yes, by all means, explain it to me!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you obviously don't care very much about me! Not if you can't be bothered to say goodbye! I know we were only together for a few weeks, but – "

Harry barked a humourless laugh. "Is that what you think?"

"What else am I supposed to think?" she shouted.

"It was because I was too scared, that's why!" he bellowed.

Ginny stopped and looked at him carefully. "What do you mean?"

Harry took a deep breath and sighed. "I was too scared – I thought if I stopped walking, or if I tried to speak to you, I'd lose my nerve."

Her expression softened a fraction, but she didn't say anything.

He continued, "When Voldemort tried to kill me as a baby, he inadvertently turned me into a Horcrux. That's why I could see his thoughts and feel so connected to him. When I found out, I realized I had to let him kill me for him to ever be mortal. If I didn't, none of you stood a chance."

He rubbed his eyes, as if trying to rub away the memory.

"That thought was the only thing that kept me putting one foot in front of the other. And I thought – no, I knew – that if I spoke to you, I would want to stay. I wanted to LIVE, Ginny – and that's what you represented to me – a life outside of this whole stupid mess, a future. There was no way I could've given it up, if I'd tried to say goodbye to you."

There it was. He'd laid it all out for her to see, his heart and soul. Now he just had to wait to see what she'd do with it.

When she finally spoke, her voice had lost its fury, but it was filled with a grief he had never heard before.

"When I saw Hagrid carrying your body, it was the worst moment of my life."

He remembered the sound of her scream, mingled with Ron and Hermione's, and the way it had torn his heart to pieces.

"I know," he nodded.

"No! You don't know! I felt like something had been ripped out of me when I saw that. When I started dueling Bellatrix Lestrange, I didn't care if I lived or died! What was the point in winning this stupid war - what was the point of anything – if you weren't there?" She shook her head sadly. "All I could think of was all the things we hadn't said or done. And even though you're right here in front of me, I can still feel all those feelings and all that pain, as if it only just happened."

He could see as much in her face. She looked as if her heart was breaking right in front of him.

"I just… I just need to trust that you're still here. That you'll still be here tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. Do you know what I mean?"

He looked into her impossibly sad eyes and nodded.

She smiled a small smile. "It is getting better, though. Spending so much time together… I can feel it getting easier. I think I just need some time."

Harry resisted the urge to reach out and touch her hair, which seemed to glow in the sunset.

"Well, we've got time," he said.

She smiled at him, in that way that made him tingle all over.

"Yeah. We've all got time. Thanks to you."

And in that one moment, everything he'd been through and everything he'd battled – it was all worth it.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – A Walk

The summer was in full swing.

The inhabitants of the Burrow had settled themselves into a comfortable routine and step by step, they made their way back to normality.

Hermione had returned after two weeks away, much to Ron's delight, having restored her parents' memories and returned them to their home. It was clear to see that a weight had been lifted from her mind, and her smile seemed brighter and easier.

Bill and Fleur had gone home to Shell Cottage, whilst Percy and Charlie returned to their homes and jobs. George, however, had decided to remain at the Burrow for the time being, not yet ready to return to the flat he and Fred had shared above their shop on Diagon Alley.

The various departures had freed up some bedrooms, but Harry continued to share a room with Ron, more out of habit than anything else. He'd spent several weeks now on a makeshift bed, which had been enhanced with a number of cushioning charms and was as comfortable as any he'd ever slept on.

Harry lay there one morning, watching as the light from the crack of the curtains crept its way across the ceiling.

Ron lay sprawled on his own bed, his hands behind his head.

It was a quiet time, reminiscent of the mornings they had shared in the Gryffindor dorm.

"What are you up to today, Ron?"

Ron yawned his reply. "Me and 'Mione are going to walk down to Ottery St Catchpole, have a look around. There's this little bookshop there that I've told her about and she's dying to see it. You know her and books – an unending love affair."

"Sounds nice."

"Come along, if you want, mate – you haven't been there yet, either."

"Aw, I don't know… Three's a crowd, and all that."

"Don't be daft! It's always been the three of us!"

"Yeah, but it's…DIFFERENT… now."

"No! Not really! Oh, come one, Hermione won't mind! Come with us."

Harry considered it for a moment, then said, "Okay, I will – thanks. So… How are things going with you two?"

Ron grinned. "Brilliant, Harry. She's… Well, she's Hermione, isn't she? She funny, and caring, and clever – she's way beyond clever! And she's beautiful, have you noticed that? Absolutely bloody gorgeous."

Harry laughed. "I can't say that I have, Ron."

"I'm still not sure what she sees in me, to be honest with you, but I'm not complaining!"

"Well, whatever it is, she's crazy about you."

Ron sat up. "Really? Do you think so?"

"Of course she is! I told you, when you left and it was just the two of us in the forest, she was a total mess! Crying, and everything. She didn't know what to do with herself."

Ron laid his head back on the pillow. "Hermione was a mess over me, eh?" Harry could tell he was smiling, even in the half light. "Not that I like the thought of her being miserable, you know… It's just nice to know she cares that much!"

"You two have been disappearing together a lot recently – especially since she's been back," he prompted.

"Yeah… It's been nice to have someone to talk to. Anyway, you're a fine one to talk! You and Ginny are always out under that tree together. Are you two back on, or what?"

Harry sighed.

Now that was an interesting question.

"We've just been talking a lot, that's all. I think she's just finding it all a bit much to deal with, at the moment, and God knows I am! We're just dealing with it all." He thought about their argument, and how talking to one another had been so much easier since then.

"So nothing's going on between you?" Ron asked.

"Nope."

The usual morning sounds began to drift up the stairs – crockery being rattled, cupboards opening and closing.

"Don't you like her any more?"

Harry could tell Ron wasn't going to let this drop.

"Of course I do! She's…" Harry struggled to find the right words. "You know all those things you said about Hermione?"

Ron nodded.

"That's Ginny, to me. It's just, now's not the right time."

"Does she feel the same?"

Harry could feel himself getting frustrated. "I don't know, Ron! We haven't really talked about that."

Ron scoffed. "Blimey, what is it with you two and having to talk about everything? Just do something – kiss her!"

"Listen to you – Ron Weasley, the love guru!"

"Oi, don't knock it – it worked, didn't it?"

Harry shook his head, and swung his legs out of bed.

"I don't know, Ron. I don't know if she feels that way about ME."

Now it was Ron who was laughing. "Mate, if you can't see that, then you're even blinder than I was!"

Harry smiled, and he wanted to purr with a warm delight.

"Ask her if she wants to come with us later, if you want."

He thought about it for a second. "Really? Do you think I should?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

Harry nodded. Yeah, he could do that. Why not?

As it turned out, he didn't need to – Hermione has beaten him to it, having had much the same thought that morning.

If Harry hadn't been so concerned and nervous about asking Ginny, he might've found it suspicious that both Ron and Hermione had been so keen to bring them along – he might've even thought that they'd planned it between them as a kind of double date – but he'd been much too preoccupied to consider that. Instead, he was relieved that he didn't have to ask her himself.

That afternoon, the four of them began the walk to the village of Ottery St Catchpole. Ron and Hermione walked hand in hand, whilst Harry and Ginny walked a few steps behind them, side by side.

They were chatting animatedly about the tiny shops in the village.

"My favourite was always Shuttermusts – it's like a general store," Ron enthused. "It sells everything from parchment and quills to potatoes and bed clothes and photo frames – oh, and they have an enormous sweet counter!"

Ginny shook her head. "Ron, you could hardly describe it as massive – you could fit the whole shop in our kitchen!"

"Yeah, I suppose. But everything looks massive when you're six, doesn't it?"

The sleepy village crept into view as the group walked.

"It's where we got Errol, as well," said Ginny.

"It sells animals?" asked Harry, thinking of the impossibly old owl that used to bring Ron's post to the Gryffindor breakfast table, and was quickly reminded of his poor Hedwig.

"No, we got him when we retired," Ron called over his shoulder.

Ginny explained, "Shuttermusts have a small owlery and it acts as a post office – Errol was one of the owls there that people used if they didn't have one of their own. He was getting old and was forever getting lost on long journeys, but Charlie took a real liking to him – you know how is with animals – and he convinced Mum to let us adopt him when they retired him. He could just about manage the odd trip to Hogwarts, bless him."

As they approached the village, Harry could see that it was, in fact, smaller that Hogsmeade. It had fewer shops, but more houses – many of which were vividly coloured with numerous chimneys perched over the roofs. The overall impression of the place was that it was mismatched, with colours and shapes that didn't seemed to fit together, much in the way of a Muggle outfit put together by a wizard. Its inhabitants walking along the wide streets were invariably old and crooked, using walking sticks and wearing big hats, smiling and nodding at the conspicuous Weasleys.

"There used to be quite a few Muggles living in the village at one time. But slowly, they got fed up of being Confunded and they got tired of all the strange goings-on… There's only a few left in the area now, and they live on the outskirts, in farms," Ginny supplied.

Ron led the way into a small shop with a blue door which tinkled as the entered. The interior of the shop was dark and cramped, with shelves reaching up to the ceilings and balancing a bizarre array of wares – wooden spoons, bottle of hazy potions, sacks of owl feed, bales of fabric, turnips and ornamental cauldrons all swayed precariously as they passed them.

In one corner stood the fabled sweet counter of Ron's childhood – in reality, the size of a school desk.

Behind it stood a wizened old woman with a bush of wiry, violet-hued hair.

"Well, now, look what the North Wind's blown in – Ronald Weasley!" came a crackling, Cockney voice, seeming much too loud for the tiny woman. "And Ginny! Goodness me!" She cackled in pleasure.

Harry and Hermione squeezed themselves into the shop behind them, smiling nervously.

"And who's this you've brought with you?"

"This is Hermione… she's, uh… she's my, er-" Ron stuttered.

"I'm his girlfriend," Hermione filled in smiling at the witch.

"Yeah – my girlfriend," he agreed, blushing with an odd mixture of pride and bashfulness, grabbing her hand in his. "And this is our friend, Harry."

He peered around them and smiled his hello.

Immediately, the witch's face blanched. Her mouth opened and closed and she seemed to swell to twice her original height.

"Oh, my… So it is! Harry Potter!" She bustled her way around the counter, her eyes not leaving his face for an instant. "Mr. Potter, I'd like to shake your hand, sir, I surely would! Agnetta Shuttermust – Nettie," and she thrust her hand into his with a strength that belied her stature. "I never dreamed I would meet you, young sir – an honour, it is, a true honour!"

He mumbled, "It's nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Shuttermust!"

"I always knew you were alive out there, sir, even when the papers said you were dead or you'd run away, I never believed it! My husband said, Nettie – you must have faith – Harry Potter won't let us down! And you didn't!"

Ginny told him, "The Shuttermusts were a real pair of revolutionaries – weren't you, Nettie?"

The old woman beamed. "We did our bit, that's all."

"They distributed leaflets, telling people to resist the Death Eaters, telling them you were out there, working for a better world."

"We told 'em all to keep their peckers up and good will out in the end. We sent one with every owl that left our post office – over five thousand, we estimated. Well, that was until my Bob was arrested."

"He was arrested?" Harry asked.

"The Death Eaters worked out where the leaflets were coming from, and stormed the shop. I was at my sister's house, but my Bob was here. Doris, over at the bookshop, said they dragged him out of the shop, half-conscious, and then they took him to Azkaban." Her face had fallen a little as she told him.

"Azkaban?" Harry said hopefully. "He should be home soon, then. I know it's been taking a while because of the numbers of wrongfully imprisoned, but it shouldn't be too much longer now."

She shook her head, sadly. "No, dear. My Bobby… he wasn't a well man. Azkaban's a hard place, and he couldn't take it. He lasted two months before he died."

Harry slumped.

Another tragedy. Another life over. And because they'd wanted to help him.

"Mrs. Shuttermust, I'm so sorry…"

"Nah… don't be daft!" she sniffed. "Bobby used to say he'd never had so much excitement in his life – he said he felt like an international man of mystery!" She chuckled. "He was glad to be doing something so worthy – proud to be helping the great Harry Potter, and so was I. So don't you think on it, young sir – don't you think on it for a moment."

She grabbed his hand in both of hers and beamed at him. "You're our hero, son."

Harry felt his face burn as he blushed furiously.

"Anything you want, Mr. Potter – help yourself – no charge!"

"I couldn't…"

"Yes, you can! Anything at all, now…"

Ron's face lit up.

"Er, not you! I think you liberated enough of my Chocolate Frogs over the years to put me out of business, don't you?" she crowed.

"Ronald!" exclaimed Hermione, appalled.

"It wasn't me! It was Fred and George!" They all turned to look at him. "Honestly!"

Harry shook his head, and began to investigate the overflowing shelves.

An hour later, the four of them emerged from the bright yellow bookshop.

"…And this one's about the warlocks of South East Asia – absolutely fascinating! I don't know whether to start with that or the one about the unicorn herds in Wiltshire…" Hermione was talking a mile a minute to no one in particular, carrying a pile of leather bout tomes that looked like they weighed more than she did.

"What have we done?" groaned Ron. "I've created a monster!"

"Oh, shush and take some of these off me!" she said.

"Can we go for a drink now? We've been in that bloody bookshop for hours!"

"Stop whining or I'll go back in there for a look at the Muggle section and you really will be in there for hours!"

The bickering couple stalked off towards the pub at the end of the street, whilst Harry and Ginny trailed behind them.

The Rat and Cauldron stood three stories high, with purple walls and a pointed, lime green roof. Its interior was sunny and crowded – a stark contrast to the Leaky Cauldron, which had been Harry's first experience of a wizarding pub, and it was filled with what Harry deduced to be the vast majority of the village. The small group settles themselves at a table whilst Ron went to the bar to order them some Butterbeer.

He quickly returned with a heavily laden tray.

"I'm telling you, it's finally paying off, being Harry Potter's mate – Gordon wouldn't let me pay for any of this when he saw who I'd brought in with me," he said, passing around an array of bottles and glasses.

The middle-aged, orange clad wizard nodded respectfully at them from behind the bar, whilst several patrons smiled and waved.

"And there we were, thinking you'd palled up with him for love of adventure and danger," joked Ginny, reaching for a drink.

As the afternoon wore on, a steady stream of pub customers in various stages of inebriation brought similarly laden trays over to them, pausing to shake hands and share tales of the war and the roles they'd played. Regular and increasingly drunken toasts were raised, as more and more of the pub joined there table – to Harry Potter, to the Order of the Phoenix, to house elves, to Firewhisky…

A dry, cracked voice interrupted them.

"'Arry Potter, eh?"

It emanated from a heavy set man who had remained at the bar. His face was heavily lined, his hair graying and greasy, his dark overcoat conspicuous in the sunshine and warmth.

"Quite the celebrity, ain't ya?"

The atmosphere in the room shrank away to nothing.

The man steadfastly refused to look at them as he spoke.

"Not that I'm all that impressed with ya, meself."

After what felt like an eternal pause, he slowly turned to glare at them.

"Some of us quite liked the way things were going, know what I mean? Not all the world wants dirty creatures like that girl, there, wandering round with a wand."

Instinctively, all four of them felt their fingers creep towards their wands.

The man glared at Harry and Harry glared back. The blood pounded in his ears, and every sense screamed. All the peace that had built up in his body and soul over the previous weeks seemed to seep out of him and give way to anxiety as he eyed the stranger – an anxiety that seemed all the more sharp and uncomfortable after the weeks of calm.

The man's eyes wandered over Hermione, hungrily. "Pretty… but still Muggle scum!"

In a spilt second, Harry saw him withdraw a wand from his clothes, and almost before the Stunning spell had left his lips, a dozen curses hit the stranger all at once. Harry glanced around him to see that every last person in the immediate vicinity had their wands out and aimed at the now senseless man, laying on the floor. He was wrapped, head to toe, in coils of magical ropes and covered in tiny red pustules that oozed a foul smelling slime. He moaned incomprehensibly before vomiting a fountain of slugs all over himself.

Ron was the only person out of all of them who had risen to his feet. He seethed, visibly. "She's got more magic in one of her toenails than you have in your whole carcass, you fu-"

"Ron, really!" interrupted Hermione quickly, not allowing him to continue with his expletives, but was unable to hide a small smile.

For some moments, nobody moved or seemed to know what to do. Then the silence was broken by Gordon, the barman.

"I knew I should've thrown him out – should never have served a stranger, like that – not in these times, not in this village…" He was shaking his head at the spewing mess on his floor.

"No worries, Gordon – you weren't to know…' said Ron, his voice still shaking with rage.

Harry couldn't take his eyes off the man on the floor. Or more specifically, off the edge of the Dark Mark that crept out from under his sleeve. "Yeah…We all thought 'those times' were over, too," he muttered darkly.

He replaced his wand with a shuddering breath and turned to Hermione. "Can you send a Patronus to Kingsley and let him know what happened? And get him to send a couple of Aurors."

The pub collectively began to breathe again, seeing Harry take control of the situation, as if they remembered exactly how safe the hands they were in actually were.

Quietly, under the cover of the general hubbub, Harry leaned across to Ginny, saying, "I think I see what you mean about me being normal… Nope, not going to happen!"

She raised her eyebrows at him, a smile playing at the corner of her lips, despite the seriousness of the situation, and his heart turned over for the second time that day. But this time, it was for an altogether more pleasurable reason.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – A Departure.

Harry walked into the small, bright kitchen of the Burrow. Sat at the table was Ginny, wrapped in a yellow dressing gown with her head resting in her hand.

"Morning, sunshine!" he said brightly, and she flinched at the sudden noise.

"Sshh!" she said, tapping her head. "Headache!"

Harry laughed, "Hangover, more like!"

He looked at the sorry figure at the table. She was pale and sleepy, with dark circles under her eyes.

"'Hangover' doesn't even begin to describe this! Urgh!" she grimaced.

"You enjoyed your party, then?"

She looked up, blearily. "Apparently. I don't remember much after Mum and Dad went to bed."

"Oh-ho! Well, in which case, you missed some of the highlights! Let me fill you in!" He sat next to her, passing her a mug of tea. "After a few shots of Firewhisky, Hermione decided to dance for Ron, and the rest of us! Let's just say the memory of it will make her, and me, blush for the foreseeable future!"

"She didn't!"

"Yup – seems bookish little Hermione has a right little minx inside her and we unleashed it last night!"

Ginny giggled delightedly. "I can't believe I can't remember that! What else?"

"Ron had a little… accident. He decided to go for a pee in the bushes, as the bathroom was too far away in his inebriated state. But he lost his balance, and fell into the nettle patch by the fence, stinging some rather delicate body parts in the process!"

The tea that Ginny had been sipping snorted out of her nose. "You're kidding!"

"I only wish I was – I was the one who had to and pick him up!"

"Oh, Merlin!... Tell me I didn't do anything as mortifying as that…"

He grinned at her. "No, nothing quite like that! You DID tell Fleur that you loved her, even though, and I quote, she's hoity-toity and stuck up! And to hammer the point home, you did a wicked impression of her!"

She gasped, her hand over her mouth.

"Don't worry, she saw the funny side of it!"

Ginny just shook her head in horror.

"And I did have to give you a fireman's lift to bed. But other than that, you were the model of good behaviour and restraint!"

She buried her head in her arms and groaned. "I am so sorry! Why didn't you use magic instead of carrying me? I must've weighed a ton!"

"I would've liked to, but you were using my wand and yours as drumsticks on my back whilst singing the entire back catalogue of Weird Sisters singles at the time."

"Oh, kill me, kill me now. I am so, so sorry!"

He laughed at her embarrassment. "Don't worry about it – you only come of age once. Besides, I think it did us all some good to let our hair down. By the way, did you like the birthday present I got you?"

Her face lit up with a quick enthusiasm. "It's brilliant, Harry – thank you so much! I've never had my own broom before. And the StarClimber is the best on the market – you shouldn't have spent so much on me! I'm going to out on it as soon as I've stopped feeling like I'm going to die!"

He smiled and glowed inwardly at her evident pleasure. "Gryffindor's star chaser needs a good broom! I got one for myself at the same time – Which Broom? Gave it a five star rating and it comes with a six-month warranty. I was hoping you'd like it."

"I love it. Thank you. What about you? Did you like your gifts?"

Harry's birthday had been several days before Ginny's, and the Weasley family had presented him with a beautiful tawny owl as a present.

"Mercury? He's great – it was a really thoughtful present. I don't think I could've bought another owl myself, not after losing Hedwig. When I was at the Dursleys, she was the only thing I had that linked me to the magical world. She was the only friend I had, at times. It was horrible, losing her. But it's really nice to have an owl again."

She smiled with sympathy, and said, "What about the one I gave you?"

She'd given him a silver-framed photo of the two of them after a Quidditch practice. It showed them laughing uproariously, Harry with his glasses splattered with mud and Ginny with her hair wild in the wind.

"I love it! Thank you. And I think it's about time I started collecting some happy memories like that one."

"That's exactly what I thought. To tell you the truth, that picture used to be mine."

He raised his eyebrows at her questioningly.

"Lat year, when you were off doing all that saving-the-world stuff, I kept it by my bed to keep me company. Of course, I enchanted it to make it look like a picture of my family to everyone but me. The Carrows would have loved some more ammunition to get at me. But in a way, that just sort of made it more special to me…" She looked away, shyly. "I used to stare at it and wonder where you were, and if you were safe. It made me feel closer to you. But I don't need it anymore, do I? You're here. So I thought maybe you'd like it." She sipped her tea quietly, her face slightly flushed at the admission, and looked at him from under her lashes.

"I used to do something similar," he admitted. "I used to get my Marauders Map out at night, when I couldn't sleep or if it was my turn on guard duty, and watch your dot for a while. Once I could see you were in your dorm, I'd feel… calmer. I used to wonder if you could feel me watching you…"

"Really? You used to think about me?" She looked at him, wide-eyed.

"Of course I did! I missed you! I really missed you, Gin."

They looked at each other, almost smiling, savouring the moment. All those nights when he'd laid awake, thinking about her and worrying about her, she'd been doing the same thing. It hadn't mattered how far apart they'd been, they'd been connected, somehow. A tingling warmth spread through him at the thought of it.

Feeling braver, he leaned closer to her and whispered, "Can I tell you a secret?"

She nodded, and leaned towards him, conspiratorially.

"I think I liked last year's present better…"

Her mouth opened in surprise, before a mischievous look settled on her face.

"Can I tell YOU a secret?" she asked.

Harry nodded, not taking his eyes off her.

She leaned closer and murmured, "I preferred giving last year's, as well."

They were so close.

Harry swallowed, and his heart pounded in anticipation, the blood rushing in his ears.

Her face was so close to his, he could feel her soft breath on his lips. He inhaled the scent of toothpaste and flowers, and felt his own breath catch is his lungs.

Ginny inched closer to him, angling her face so that her lips were barely separated from his. He saw her eyelids flutter closed and her tongue dart out over her lips.

He was so, so close… so agonizingly, deliciously close to kissing her…

H felt his eyes close and leaned in just a fraction when-

CLATTER THUMP CLATTER THUMP CLATTER THUMP!

Ron swung open the kitchen door, having bounded down the stairs. The pair sprang apart violently at the sudden noise, knocking over Ginny's mug in the process. Harry dived across the room to reach a tea-towel, and the two of them engrossed themselves in the task of mopping up the luke-warm tea.

"How's the hangover this morning, squirt?" he asked over his shoulder whilst inspecting the contents of the fridge.

"Fine!" She glared at him, muttering, "Yet again, perfect bloody timing, Ronald…"

"Hmm? Sorry, what was that?" He turned to look at them.

She smiled sweetly at him. "I was just wondering how your nettle rash was this morning… You know," she said, lowering her voice, "…on your 'bits'?" She burst into laughter as he choked on a mouthful of sausage.

Ah, yes, thought Harry, revenge is sweet! He caught Ginny's eye and grinned.

They would finish this conversation later.

However, the day had different plans for them.

The next time he saw Ginny, she was dressed and looking considerably less hungover. The colour had returned to her cheeks and her eyes sparkled. Harry found himself wondering when the last time was he'd seen her look so… alive.

He walked into the kitchen and saw her sitting with Mrs. Weasley.

"Wow, you look much better!"

"Thanks," she said. "George gave me some of his homemade hangover potion and I rejoined the land of the living in no time!"

Mrs. Weasley eyed her suspiciously. "If it had been up to me, you'd have had none and been left to suffer to teach you a lesson!"

Ginny rolled her eyes and a voice said, "Now, now, mother! Don't you come over all innocent!" George appeared at the door carrying a large bag and his jacket. "If I remember correctly, you had a rather hefty nip of that potion the morning after Auntie Muriel's hundredth birthday party!"

Mrs. Weasley's face coloured as she said, "I certainly don't remember that!"

George smirked, "Story has it you don't remember a lot of that party! Wasn't it you who suggested the skinny dipping?"

He managed to duck just in time as his puce-faced mother aimed a playful cuff in his direction, whilst Harry and Ginny roared with laughter.

George leaned sown and ruffles Ginny's hair, much to her annoyance. "Right then, you, are you going to give your big brother a goodbye hug?"

"You're off, then?" She stood and embraced him warmly. She buried her head in his shoulder, sniffing, "Good riddance, as well."

As she pulled away, Harry could see that despite her joking, Ginny was finding it hard to say goodbye. Her eyes had filled with tears and her smile was sad.

Mrs. Weasley picked some imaginary fluff off his t-shirt and said, "George, are you sure you want to go just yet? You know you're more than welcome to stay as long as you like. It is your home, after all." Her expression of annoyance had morphed into one of concern as soon as she realized George's departure was imminent.

"Oh, Mum, we've been through this – the shop needs me. I've been away for far too long as it is. And, if I'm honest, I need the shop! I'm going to need to get back into a routine at some point."

Mrs. Weasley gave him a watery smile.

"Besides," he said, "it'll be no fun here once this lot go back to school! Who will I have to torment?"

Harry stood and offered his hand to George.

"What?!" cried George, aghast. "Behave, you! Give me a hug!" He pulled Harry into a bear-hug, whispering into Harry's ear so that no-one else could hear, "Look after them for me, eh?"

Harry nodded, almost imperceptibly, and after a couple of seconds of back-slapping and throat-clearing, they released one another.

George quickly placed a kiss on Molly's tear-moistened cheek, saying, "Right, I think that's all my goodbyes said – I caught the others earlier."

He stepped into the kitchen fireplace, taking a handful of Floo powder.

"Oh, and if you get a chance, send me a Hogwarts bog brush! It'll go well with all the toilet seats we knicked over the years!"

He gave them a quick wink before stating his destination and disappearing in a flash of green.

Soot scattered all over the kitchen floor, and Ginny and Mrs. Weasley immediately sank to their knees in an effort to tidy up the mess.

"I'll do it, Mum."

"No, no, let me," Mrs. Weasley said, trying to extract her wand and wipe away her tears at the same time, all but pushing her daughter out of the way.

Ginny sank back on her heels, saying, "Okay. I tell you what, I'll go and peel some potatoes ready for dinner, shall I?"

They stood simultaneously.

"No, Ginny, I'll do it."

"It's fine, I don't mind…" Ginny said, taking a bag of potatoes from the kitchen worktop and opening it.

"Ginevra, will you just leave it! Please!" Molly snapped, snatching it back and thumping it on the table. "I may be losing children left, right and centre but please, at least allow the courtesy of looking after the ones I have left!"

Ginny recoiled, visibly stung by her mother's sharp tone.

Mrs. Weasley stood at the sink, her back to them, resting her weight on her hands. She heaved a great sigh before looking up and turning to them.

"I'm sorry, dear." She tried to smile at them. "I know you were only trying to help. Why don't you and Harry go outside? It's a lovely day, still. Go on, I'll take care of this."

She gave Ginny's arm a pat and turned her face away.

"Okay," Ginny nodded, and they walked out into the sunshine.

Neither said anything until they reached their tree and sat on the grass.

"She didn't mean to be short with you," Harry said gently.

Ginny didn't answer for a second. "I know. She finds it hard when she hasn't got people to fuss over – it's her way of coping with things. It's difficult to know what to do to make things easier for her."

He looked at her face, etched with worry, that had been so alive only a matter of minutes ago.

He nudged her playfully. "What about you? How are you doing?"

She looked at him openly, as if debating whether to tell him the truth.

"Honestly? I'm tired. And I'm sick, I'm sick at heart. I can't bear to see them grieving like this. Part of me wants to run away and escape it all, but at the same time, I'm not sure how I could stand to leave. Do you understand that? Needing to go and needing to stay at the same time?"

Harry's heart ached for her. He'd spent so long wishing he could escape his life and the inevitable destiny that seemed to dog his every step, praying that he would be brave enough to face it when the time came. He knew how it felt to be torn between – how was it Dumbledore described it? What was right and what was easy. He felt every ounce of her turmoil, but at the same time he knew that she, like him, would always do what was right, no matter how difficult that was.

She continued, "I feel hurt, and disappointed that we didn't get the happy ending to all of this that we deserved. And I'm confused, because I can't think of the future without being terrified, just when I ought to be looking forward to it. But above everything else – I feel guilty. Because when it comes down to it, I've got no right to have any of these feelings. I have no right to complain when so may have sacrificed so much. It isn't fair."

She pushed her red hair back from her face and expelled a sigh of frustration.

Instinctively, Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. She rested her head against his shoulder and he breathed in the scent of her.

He felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude – gratitude that she was there, in his arms, that he could be there for her and comfort her

"Bet you wish you hadn't asked, now," she muttered.

"Of course not," he replied softly. "I'm just glad you can tell me."

He leaned his head against hers, and together they watched the sun's descent below the horizon.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 – A Return.

Harry and Ginny were taking a final walk around the garden of the Burrow. In a few short hours, they would be back at Hogwarts for the start of their final year.

The Burrow has become a chaotic hub of activity over the last few days – clothes needed to be washed and packed, missing items retrieved and stowed away, books bought and lists prepared. On this, the final morning, the frenetic hubbub reached its zenith, and Harry and Ginny took advantage of the busyness to escape for a final few moments alone.

They walked along the line of the stream, savouring the sounds of the waking birds and the gentle glow of the early morning sunlight, throwing an occasional glance over their shoulders to check for signs that they had been missed.

"How are Teddy and Andromeda?" asked Ginny, wrapping her jacket around herself a little tighter in the early morning chill. "You've been over there every day this week, haven't you?"

Harry nodded.

As the end of the summer had galloped towards them unbidden, he'd felt a choking guilt that he would soon be unable to visit his little godson. As much as he was looking forward to going back to school and returning to some semblance of normality, he couldn't help but feel he was abandoning Teddy by leaving him behind. He'd been faced with a dilemma. On one hand, he'd wanted to spend every last possible moment with Ginny (there was a "conversation" they had yet to finish, much to Harry's frustration, due to preparations for their departure, and the window of opportunity for them to spend time alone shrank a little every day.). On the other hand, he knew that once he left for Hogwarts, there would be months before he would be able to see Teddy again.

Teddy, with no mother or father. Orphaned, as Harry had been.

The thought of it had cut through him almost painfully and he knew he'd made his decision. He'd spent hours there each day, holding him and learning how to feed and change him. He'd watched with delight as the baby grew to smile when Harry appeared, and how his eyes would flicker from their usual grey-blue to green when he tickled his feet or blew raspberries on his palms.

It was this he thought of when he answered, "Teddy did that eye thing again yesterday – you know, the one I told you about? He laughed when I tickled him and suddenly, he blinked and his eyes were bright green! Andromeda said it's his way of showing that he likes me. And she said that his hair stayed red for hours, even after you went home, on Saturday!"

Ginny had been absent-mindedly twirling a lock of her own red hair around her fingers as he spoke, and she giggled self-consciously as she noticed him watching. She tucked it behind her ear and a few wisps escaped in the breeze.

It took every ounce of discipline he had not to reach out and brush the strands away from her cheek.

She'd seemed to be doing it a lot, recently, playing with her hair. It was almost as if she knew it drove him to distraction with longing. His mind drifted back to the last time he'd ran his fingers through her hair. It had been at the Burrow, at the end of the summer, in her small, bright room…God, he wanted to touch it again. To remember the softness of it, its weight in his hands…

He almost shook his head, trying to dislodge the memory from the forefront of his mind.

Focus, Harry, he thought. What was it you were saying?

Ginny's voice interrupted his thoughts. "I'm sure she'll send you lots of pictures, don't worry. She said she'd send an owl every week."

"Yeah," he sighed. "It's been nice getting to know him."

"I know what you mean," she said.

"How? You've been around for his whole life," he said, confused.

"I didn't mean Teddy – I meant you." She glanced at his bemused expression. "When you first came back, it was like you were a different person. And, yes, before you say it, I know – we'd all changed. Of course we had – how could we not, after all we saw and did? But you," she said, examining him, "YOU were so different, I wondered if we'd ever really get you back. But over these last couple of months, it's like I've got to know you all over again. I like it."

The revelation hit him all at once. The reason why their almost-kiss hadn't come sooner, and why it hadn't been repeated. He'd been a different person to her, and Ginny had needed time to become comfortable with this new Harry. After all those months of distance, she'd needed to get to know him and learn to trust him all over again. She'd needed time.

They stopped walking and faced each other.

"I suppose I had changed a lot." She nodded. "But some things always stay the same…"

Her hand rose to re-secure the rogue stands of gold on her face, and his heart contracted a little, whilst she smiled mysteriously.

In the distance, he heard Mrs. Weasley calling Ginny's name.

"Come on…" he said, gesturing towards the house. "We'd better get going." They strolled back towards the house in silence.

If she needs time, he thought as they walked, then I'll wait. After all, she waited long enough for me.

And they walked back into the organized chaos of the Burrow.

Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione sat together in a compartment of the Hogwarts Express. The atmosphere was subdued. Saying goodbye on Platform 9 ¾ had been more difficult than any of them had imagined. Mrs. Weasley had held the tears at bay until they'd stepped onboard, but as the train had pulled away, the group had seen her bury her face in Mr. Weasley's scruffy Muggle jacket, overcome with weeping. Now, they sat quietly, listening to the sounds of the train, lost in their own thoughts.

The train had seemed emptier than it had before. Harry remembered how some years they had struggled to find an empty compartment, so they could talk about their plans or the latest rumours they'd heard from the Order. This year, they had their pick. However, despite the room on the train, there seemed to be a steady stream of students of varying ages filing past the window, some glancing surreptitiously through the glass, others peering openly.

"They're looking at you, you know," said Ron.

Harry looked at him, startled. "I don't know why. They've all seen me before."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "I know – it's a mystery! It's almost as if you're back from the dead or something!" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

He tried to smile, and Ginny shifted uncomfortably next to him.

"I don't think it's just that!" Ron gestured at the window.

Three girls had slowed to an almost complete halt outside their door and had begun to giggle loudly. Harry could feel himself going red. Suddenly, the girls' faces dropped and they shuffled away quickly. Harry turned to see Ginny glaring towards the door, her eyes narrowed. He struggled to contain a smile as he glowed inwardly. He couldn't resist asking, "You okay, Gin?"

Her eyes snapped back to his and she gave a look of perfect innocence.

"Me? Of course!"

Ron chuckled quietly from behind his copy of The Quibbler that he had conveniently disappeared behind, and then yelped as Ginny's foot found his shin.

"Harry, you will remember to be careful won't you?" came Hermione's ever-sensible voice.

"Mmm?"

"Remember Romilda Vane?" she asked pointedly.

Harry's memory flickered back to his last year of school, and the small incident of the chocolates spiked with love potion, and he winced. "Er – vividly."

Ron's newspaper crunched to his lap. "As do I!"

"Yes – well, you know what I mean then. And this year it will be worse. There's the whole fame thing, of course, but…" She paused for a second to find the right words, before hurriedly saying, "You're hardly a scrawny little boy these days, are you?"

This comment earned her arched looks form both Weasleys. Colouring slightly, she said, "Have you finished with that newspaper, Ron?"

Harry never thought he would feel so self-conscious with his best friends.

It was true, he did look a lot different these days. When he had first arrived at the Burrow, his hair had been longer than it had ever been, but as defiantly messy as ever – Mrs. Weasley could hardly wait to take a scissors to it. It still looked a little wilder than it had at school, but it was a definite improvement. He'd also managed to grow several inches over the year, despite a serious lack of real food, taking him to over six feet tall, and stretching out what little weight he did have even further. Luckily, Mrs. Weasley had come to rescue again! It had become her personal mission to feed up Harry, Ron and Hermione, and took immense pleasure in cooking enormous meals for her family, as if she could make up for a year's worth of isolation and neglect. As a result, Harry had lost that gaunt look that had settled around his face, and instead, he looked lithe, toned and solid. He would never look muscular, he'd decided, but at least he didn't look pathetically skinny any more! Then, of course, there were the scars… Most were hidden beneath his clothes, but some were visible. Scrapes and grazes on his face had healed, but left red marks and traces of their former presence.

He let his mind play over it all, embarrassed that these changes hadn't escaped everyone's notice, but still amazed that any of these alterations could be of any interest to the girls who continued to file past the window, much to Ginny's obvious chagrin. He certainly didn't class himself as good looking. Although, a tiny fragment of ego cried out, he may have to reconsider that statement. The thought disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. Yeah, Harry, he told himself, I hardly think so. He almost scoffed aloud at the idea.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sliding of the carriage door.

"There you are! I've been looking for you up and down the train!"

Four heads snapped up at the sound of the familiar voice.

"NEVILLE!" they cried, simultaneously.

Upon seeing him, Ginny immediately stood and threw herself at him in hug. "Oh, it is so good to see you!"

Neville laughed at her enthusiasm and returned the hug. "How's my second in command?"

She giggled at the nickname, and gave a mock salute. "Very well, sir, thank you, sir!"

The two of them sat on the seat next to Harry, still chuckling.

Harry, on the other hand, felt very little like laughing.

It's just Neville, he thought over and over. It means nothing. It doesn't matter that she's laughing and smiling because of him and not you – it's just Neville.

The annoyance and jealousy must have been plain to see, as Ron snorted with barely concealed laughter at the look on his face, for which he received a swift kick to his other shin – this time from Harry.

When he returned his attention to Ginny and Neville, she was looking at him questioningly. Instantly, he felt ashamed of his reaction, and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his thoughts.

He looked at Neville's beaming face, so obviously pleased to be back amongst friends, and his sense of embarrassment increased. He tried to smile to cover up his feelings and asked, "What on earth are you doing here, Nev? It's great to see you and everything, but haven't you finished school?"

Hermione's face blanched "You did do alright, didn't you, Neville? In the exams?" Her voice was filled with horror at the very thought of poor results or failing.

"Yeah, Professor McGonagall arranged for me to sit them over the holidays, and my results were fine. Better than fine, actually. I'm coming back as an assistant on a research study." His beaming face was filled with pride now.

"Blimey, well done, mate!" said Ron, impressed. "What's it about?"

"Professor Sprout asked me if I'd like to assist on a project of her hers. She's attempting to cross-pollinate two types of Devil's Snare in order to make it more resistant to magic. The idea came about when they were replacing the wards around Hogwarts and looking at the defenses. I'll be helping with some of the practical stuff and keeping records of the research. We're hoping to publish our findings in some Herbology journals."

"Wow, Neville, that sounds great! You'll be taking over the Herbology department and teaching lessons by Easter!" exclaimed Harry.

"Don't know about that…" he mumbled, still grinning.

"Well, it's great news, and I'm so pleased you're back! It wouldn't have felt right without you," Ginny said.

Neville's face was suddenly filled with concern. "Are you alright, Gin? Coming back, I mean – after everything?" His voice was quiet. He was thinking of all they'd been through in their previous year. He'd been one of the few people Ginny had confided in.

For a moment, her eyes darkened and Harry saw her hands begin to fidget. "Yeah, course I am. We're all together again, aren't we?" She tried to smile, but Harry could see that it never reached her eyes, or brightened her face the way her real smiles did. He watched her fingers pick ever more viciously at a cuticle, and without thinking, he placed one of his large hands over hers.

"You'll hurt yourself!" he warned, and immediately her hands were still.

The room was quiet. He could feel the eyes of his friends on his hands, but was almost oblivious to it, compared to the heat of the tiny white hand under his. Against every desire he had, he slowly withdrew his hand, and then realized he didn't know what to do with it. He hastily folded his arms.

After a few seconds with nothing but the sound of the train to break the silence, Ron said, "Right, I'm going to find the food trolley – I'm starving!"

"I'll come with you," Neville agreed. "I quite fancy a pumpkin pasty myself."

They slid out of the compartment. Harry stood to follow them.

"Where're YOU going?" Hermione asked.

""Er… to the little wizard's room," he replied.

"You might want to take your Invisibility cloak," she suggested, as another gaggle of giggling girls shuffled past the window.

"Good idea," he admitted throwing it round his shoulders for the first time in many long months.

When he returned a few minutes later, he saw that Hermione and Ginny had been joined by another girl, from the fifth year, who was leaning against the door. Keen to avoid her, he pressed himself against the wall, intending to wait until she left, and listened to the conversation.

"Oh, okay…" said the girl, sounding disappointed. "Do you know where he's gone? Everyone's been saying he was in here. I just wanted to say hi before all the other girls started badgering him. You know, kind of get in there first…" She smiled salaciously.

Ginny laughed darkly. "Oh, dear, I did warn him last night that this would happen."

"Last night?" the girl asked.

"Mmm, we spent the summer together… I told him that girls would be all over him." She gave a small smile, as if remembering the conversation. "But he said THEY didn't matter, just…" She sighed wistfully. "Well, he didn't seem concerned about any other girls." She finished by flashing her most brilliant smile.

A look of understanding washed over the girl's face. "You and Harry are still… close… then?"

Hermione looked at Ginny with the same look of quiet questioning.

"Oh, yes," she grinned. "We're… very 'close'."

"Oh. Right. I see," the girl muttered. "Well, I'll be off then." The crestfallen girl said her goodbyes and disappeared down the corridor.

Even though it was now clear to go in, Harry hovered by the still open door, under the cover of his cloak, checking to make sure the conversation was over.

Ginny had picked up the discarded Quibbler and was idly flicking through its pages. Hermione was looking at her.

"Um… Gin?"

"Mmm-hmm?" She didn't look up.

"Does this mean you and Harry are –" she began.

"Nope." Ginny continued to browse through the pages.

"But you made it sound to her like you were back –"

"Mmm, that's right."

"But you're not…"

"No," she said, flicking the pages more rapidly, before stopping and looking at her friend. "Why?"

Hermione shook her head and quickly began rummaging in her bag for something. "No reason. Just clearing that up."

Ginny disappeared behind the newspaper again, then from behind it, she said, "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Ask me again at Christmas."

Hermione gave a small smile, whilst Harry positively beamed from outside.

He waited for a moment before rejoining the girls. When he did, he sat a little closer to Ginny that he had before.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Definitely," he replied, and he allowed himself to enjoy the sensation of more hope than he'd felt in years.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – Submitting.

The Hogwarts Express was beginning to slow down. For the past few minutes it had been passing through countryside that looked warmly familiar to Harry. He could feel a combination of excitement and anticipation rushing up inside him, coupled with the intense sensation of homecoming. Hogwarts was the first place where he'd ever felt as if he belonged, and in a short amount of time – time that could finally be measured in minutes instead of hours or days – he would be back.

But somewhere, amongst the longing to finally get there, Harry also felt the cold fingers of trepidation inching their way through his chest. He'd told Ginny with such confidence that everything would be fine once they were back, reassuring her that the presence of friends would banish unwelcome memories. And he'd believed it. Only now, as the castle loomed in the distance, the words seemed hollow and useless.

What if he was wrong?

What if he stepped off the train and felt… fear?

What if he walked into the Great Hall and saw not the familiar house tables, but the rows of bodies of the fallen, as he'd seen it last?

And the most terrifying thought of all – what if Ginny looked to him for reassurance and comfort and saw all those fears in his eyes?

He tried to force the thoughts from his mind and focus on other things, like the way the Quidditch pitch looked first thing in the morning, and the sound the wind made when it whistled through his dorm window on a blustery night.

The anxiety began to retreat a little, but all those thoughts hovered, just out of sight, in the recesses of his mind.

Harry was not alone in feeling this way. The whole train seemed subdued in the last few minutes of the journey. There had always been a belief amongst students that no matter what dangers and perils lay outside the school walls, those things would never really touch them in the fortress of Hogwarts, and nothing truly terrible could ever really befall them there. But all of that had changed. The war had come to them, its terrible explosive climax taking place within its very heart. They had seen its destruction first hand, felts its foundations shake and witnessed their illusion of security shatter before them. They were returning not to the safe haven of their childhood, but to a battleground.

These memories sat on the train with them, like a physical presence, although none dared give them voice. Harry continued to try and ignore them, but they remained, regardless.

As the train ground to a stop, he unconsciously held his breath.

The group of friends stepped off the train and immediately heard Hagrid's booming voice. They could see him through the mist, towering over the students.

"Firs' years, follow me! This way!" he bellowed.

Harry waved to catch his attention.

"Alrigh', Harry?" he called, beaming.

Hagrid had been a regular visit to the Burrow over the summer, sampling Mrs. Weasley's cooking and bringing them updates on the repairs to the castle. Seeing him there as they got off the train was unbelievably comforting. For a moment, Harry felt as if he was eleven years old again, arriving at the school for the first time and rejoicing at seeing the familiar hairy face in a crowd full of strangers.

He grinned in reply, and jostled his way through the crowds behind the others to make their way to the castle. As he walked with them, a poignant thought hit him – they would all be able to see the Thestrals this year.

Harry would never forget the moment he stepped through the doorway of Hogwarts for the first time since the battle.

He'd always remember the soft candle light and the sound of footsteps on the cold flagstones, and the hammering of his heart in his chest.

Ginny walked next to him and he could feel the tension rolling off her. He grabbed her hand in his.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

She breathed deeply and nodded. "I'm fine."

The look on her face said otherwise but Harry didn't contradict her. Instead, he rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

"Are YOU okay?" she asked, her eyes full of concern.

"I'm fine, Gin. Really."

She squeezed his hand and he smiled. He really was okay – looking at the majestic staircases and high ceilings, he felt the constriction in his chest ease and his breathing become easier.

"I'm home," he murmured.

A voice startled him from his thoughts.

"Ah, Mr. Potter!" He turned to see Professor McGonagall standing near the door. As she approached them, he could see that her hair was whiter than before, but her eyes sparkled with affection and she smiled warmly. "Welcome back, both of you! Harry, you look much better – how are you?"

"Glad to be back, Professor."

"And you, Ginny? How are you?" She spoke gently.

"I'm fine, Professor, I'm doing okay. My mum asked me to send her love."

Professor McGonagall smiled sadly at her. "It's very brave of you to come back. I know last year was particularly hard on you, so you have my admiration."

Ginny blushed and stared at the floor. "I wanted to come back. Besides, someone has to keep an eye on Ron!"

"Oi!" came Ron's voice. "I'm meant to be looking out for YOU, remember?" He and Hermione had joined them just in time to hear her comment.

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger – it's good to have you back with us. I must say, the Gryffindor seemed eerily peaceful without the three of you last year. Although, Neville and Ginny did their utmost to liven things up…"

Ginny grinned and gave Harry a quick wink.

"Speaking of which, Ginny and Ron – would you mind making sure the first years are where they're meant to be? The Sorting ceremony will be starting shortly and I'm sure Peeves will be making a nuisance of himself and trying to frighten them."

For a second, Ron looked utterly aghast at McGonagall's request, before catching Hermione's eye. A look of dawning realization washed over his expression.

"Oh, right. Yes. Come on, Gin, let's go and herd the 'little firsties' into the right place…"

As he turned to go, Hermione called, "Be nice! They're nervous!" whilst Ron rolled his eyes.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat to get their attention and said, "I wondered if I might have a quick word with you both, as you're on your own. In my office, if you wouldn't mind."

Without waiting for a reply, she weaved her way through the crowds of students and headed for the staircase.

He glanced at Hermione, who raised an eyebrow, before shrugging and following her.

As they walked, Harry felt his confusion build. It took him a full minute to realize that they weren't heading in the wrong direction – they were heading for Dumbledore's office. He watched as the gargoyle accepted her muttered password and revealed the staircase.

Once inside, he couldn't help but note that the room looked very much as it had done the last time he saw it. The silver trinkets and mechanical oddities that Dumbledore had amassed over the years still whirred and hummed in their places, whilst portraits of former headmasters snored in their frames.

"Please, sit down, both of you," she said, gesturing to some chairs as she took her place behind the great desk.

"I take it this means you're the new head of Hogwarts, Professor?" Harry ventured.

"Yeas, the governors have offered me the post permanently," she nodded.

Harry struggled to think of something fitting to say next. "I suppose congratulations are in order..?" he fumbled.

She gave a wry smile. "Not quite, considering the circumstances, but I suppose that's an appropriate sentiment as any."

He felt himself blush at her response to his lack of tact.

"That is not the only appointment they made over the summer." She leaned forward in her chair slightly and gave a small sigh, before looking at him directly. "Harry, you have been awarded the position of Head Boy, and Miss Granger Head Girl."

She looked at him with anticipation, waiting for him to respond.

Harry couldn't speak. He looked form McGonagall's face to Hermione's and back again, shaking his head.

"No. No way," he said.

"Harry – "

'No I told Kingsley before the summer and I'm telling you now – I'm not willing to be anyone's poster boy – not the Ministry's, and not Hogwarts'! I came back to be normal, not some sort of hero. You'll have to get someone else."

Neither woman spoke. They just looked at him.

"No!" he said emphatically. "I'm not doing it!"

"Harry, at least think about it. There isn't time to get anyone else to do it. It's already the first day of term," Professor McGonagall said calmly.

His eyes narrowed. "Hang on – aren't you supposed to send an owl over the summer to let the Head Boy and Girl know that they've been chosen?"

The professor shifted slightly in her chair, glancing at Hermione. "Yes, that would be normal practice. But someone… advised… me that I'd have a better chance of getting you to agree this way." She looked again at Hermione before meeting his gaze.

The implications of what she'd said didn't sink in immediately. When they did, his head snapped round towards Hermione.

"YOU advised it? What, you knew about this and you didn't tell me?!"

She looked at him sheepishly. "I thought you might react… well, like this! And I was right! Come one, Harry, think about this logically. No one is asking you to do anything unreasonable. You wouldn't be a 'poster boy', as you put it. There'd be no big ceremony, no press, nothing like that. None of those things that Kingsley suggested. You'd just get a badge and that's it – end of subject." She paused before continuing. "It's a great honour to be asked, you know. Most people would be thrilled."

Harry could feel himself fuming. "Then ask someone else!" he hissed.

"What exactly is it you're objecting to?" she asked. "Because it seems to me that you're over-reacting a little."

"Over-reacting?!" he raged. "Hermione, I thought you'd get it! I thought you'd be on my side! This is just going to draw attention to me, give me another reason to stand out! And contrary to what people like Rita Skeeter have said, I don't WANT any more attention! I just want to do my exams, play Quidditch and blend into the background! People are going to be talking about me enough as it is – can you imagine what they'll say when they hear about this? They'll say it's favouritism or something."

"I don't know if you've noticed, Harry, but people haven't been saying anything like that about you! They love you – you're their hero!"

He scoffed. "Come off it! I've read the papers, the same as you! Did you see last week's?! They said I've been demanding the Order of Merlin and 'payment for my services to the Ministry'!"

"We all know that nothing could be further from the truth," she soothed. "You've turned both down twice already."

"Exactly! But they're still printing that rubbish!"

"That's my point – they are going to print whatever they like regardless of what you do, so you might as well just accept," she said, with an air of triumph.

Harry sighed, frustrated, before he was hit with a flash of inspiration. "Why not ask Ron?" He turned to Hermione, saying, "You know he'd love it. He's always dreamed of being Head Boy. Think of how happy it would make him!" He spoke persuasively, hoping that Hermione's feelings for Ron would convince her.

She shook her head, unmoved.

He turned imploringly to Professor McGonagall, who had said nothing for a while, listening to them.

"Professor?" he beseeched her.

She looked at him kindly, and her voice was soft when she spoke. "Harry, you DIED for us. In a world full of hate and ugliness, you acted out of love, sacrificing everything you COULD sacrifice for us. Did you really think that after all of that, after all you'd done, I would stand for anyone other than you as our Head Boy?"

He held her gaze in silence for a few seconds, frowning, before slumping back in his seat, defeated.

"Fine," he whispered.

Hermione's face broke into a wide smile.

"I'm not happy about it, but I'll do it. For you." He looked at the headmistress at the other side of the desk. "I suppose I owe you that mush, Professor."

She put her hand on top of his, saying, "On the contrary, Mr. Potter, it is we who 'owe' you."

She pushed tow small red and gold badges towards them.

"I believe these belong to you two, now."

He picked up his and turned it over in his hand. He was already feeling as if he might regret this.

Minutes later, they rejoined Ron, Ginny and Neville at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

As they walked to their seats, the hum of chattering dropped in volume, and Harry felt hundreds of eyes on him. The Head Boy badge pinned to the front of his robes felt heavy and conspicuous, and he kept his eyes focused on the floor until he reached the bench. He slid in next to Ginny, and felt his breath come a little easier when the noise level returned to normal.

"What's this?" she smiled, fingering the badge.

"I got talked into it by two insane women," he muttered.

"Congratulations, Harry!" Ron said, grinning. He swiveled to face Hermione, saying, "You see? I told you he'd do it."

Harry felt a fresh surge of annoyance well up in his chest. "I take it you knew about this as well?" he glowered.

"She was dying to tell someone! We couldn't tell her," he motioned to Ginny, "because she'd definitely have let the dragon out of the bag." He turned to Hermione again. "So did he get all stroppy?"

She winced, and nodded.

"I did not!" he exclaimed.

"You did, a bit!"

"Can you blame me?" He folded his arms on the table, determined to be irritated.

"I think it's brilliant!" Ginny said. "They couldn't have made a better choice."

"I'm reserving judgment," he muttered.

At that moment, Professor McGonagall stood and took to the podium. The hall fell silent and waited for her to begin. He watched as she examined the faces that were now focused entirely on her.

"Welcome. Welcome, all. It is so good to see so many new and old faces here before me." Her eyes found Harry's group and she gave a small smile. "Some older than others! And it is a great pleasure to see this hall filled with students, the way it should be, after so many months of seeing it empty. I won't keep you from your feast for too long, but I do have a few words to say."

The smile faded from her face but her eyes continued to sparkle.

"We have all been through an extraordinary amount in the last year. We have suffered losses and heartbreak, and endured pain that we should never have encountered. But we have come through. And now is the time for us to look to the future, and for the real work to begin. We must try and get back to some semblance of normality and the first step is here, today. I realize that for many of you, being back at Hogwarts is a difficult experience, and I promise you that we, as a staff, will do all we can to make allowances and make it as easy a process for you as we possibly can. That said, there are certain standards of behaviour and decorum that must be met. Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that magic is not permitted in the corridors between lessons, and wandering the castle after dark is strictly forbidden. The Forbidden Forest continues to be out of bounds, as are any supposedly 'secret' passageways."

At this, Ron caught Harry's eye and grinned.

"I would like to ask that inter-house relations are kept as civil as possible, regardless of what has gone on before." She eyed them all sternly. "Prejudices of any kind will not be excused, or tolerated. I hope that is clear."

There were a few scattered whispers and some icy glares aimed at the Slytherin table, but no one dared contest the Headmistress' orders.

"Lessons will begin again on Monday, once timetables have been finalized and schedules set. I am sure you will take full advantage of this and enjoy the weekend with your friends."

Her expression changed again, and she seemed to brace herself for hat she was about to say.

"Finally, there will be a memorial service held next to the Black Lake tomorrow afternoon, for those who paid the ultimate price in our war against hate. We will be unveiling our Hogwarts tribute to them and honouring those we have lost. I am sure you will all want to pay your respects, and I look forward to seeing you all there." The professor cleared her throat before continuing. "And now onto our Sorting Ceremony!"

Harry spent the next few minutes only half watching the procession of first years on the stage, and he barely tasted the food of the feast. His mind was already on tomorrow's memorial, wondering how on earth they would manage to get through it.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – Reuniting.

Later that evening, the group sat in the common room. The candlelight gave the room a soft glow and shimmered off the scarlet and gold wall hangings.

Ron and Hermione lay sprawled on the floor, engrossed in a game of wizard chess, whilst Ginny and Harry lounged on a sofa, cradling mugs of hot chocolate and staring into the fire.

Suddenly, without warning, there was a loud crack. Harry and Ginny jumped in shock, whilst Hermione knocked over several chess pieces in surprise. Standing before them was a tiny house elf, looking somewhat nervous. The small, wizened figure approached them timidly, holding out an envelope.

"Mr. Potter, a note for you from the Headmistress..." He thrust the envelope at Harry, who took it gingerly. As soon as it was in his grasp, the elf disappeared once again.

"That's a bit odd…" he muttered, opening the message. Ron stood behind him, craning to read what it said.

The two of them read the elaborate handwriting in silence for a few seconds, before Ron stepped away. He hissed a lungful of air out from between his teeth.

"No wonder that house elf made a sharp exit! I'm following his example! Come on, Hermione." He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, towing her along behind him as he walked away.

"What does it say?" Harry heard her whisper.

"I'll tell you in a minute," Ron muttered. "This is not going to be pretty…" His voice faded as they retreated.

Harry sat, unmoving.

"What is it? What's the matter?" Ginny asked, voice full of concern.

He passed the note to her.

"Harry,

I wondered if you would consider saying a few words at tomorrow's memorial. I ask you, not only as our Head Boy, but as someone who has lost as much, if not more, than any one else as a result of this dreadful war.

There is no need to send a reply immediately. I only ask that you think about it before you refuse. It would mean a lot to everyone.

Yours,

M. McG."

She passed the note back to him and studied his face.

"You're planning on saying no, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," he replied stiffly.

She groaned in disgust, and turned her face away from him.

He felt stung by her response. "What's that for?"

"For being an idiot!" she snapped.

"What do you mean?"

"Harry, I know you might not want to do this, but has it occurred to you that maybe you NEED to?"

He looked at her blankly.

"Look, you can let this haunt you for the rest of your life, if you want. You can kick up a fuss every time someone or something reminds you that you're different, just like you did about the Head Boy thing. Or you can make a choice. You can draw a line under it all and try and get some closure."

He looked away from her, not wanting to listen to what she was saying, though not enough to get up and walk away.

"Maybe speaking at the memorial tomorrow will help you do that, the way Fred's funeral did for me. It helped me see that what's done is done, and it allowed me to move on."

"You've moved on?" he asked derisively.

"Yes, I have. I wouldn't be able to bear coming back here if I hadn't. And it's time you did as well."

"I have…" he mumbled, unconvincingly.

"No, you haven't! You're still blaming yourself for surviving when so many others didn't. Don't look at me like that, I know you do. I hear it in your voice when you talk about it, and I can see it in your eyes when you hold Teddy. It's as if you're apologizing to him for not being Remus or something. I know that's why you were spending so much time with him last week – to try and make up for what you think you took away from him."

He glared at her, resenting the truth in her words.

"You need to come to terms with the fact that they're gone and you're here, and that you are not to blame for that. And I really think that speaking tomorrow might help you do that. Don't you see? It's okay to live your life. It's okay to move on. You can still remember the people we've lost and you can honour them – by accepting who you are, what you mean to people, and really LIVING your life."

She waited for him to say something, but he sat, unmoving.

"Don't do this for them. Even though I know it would mean a lot to all those who lost someone. Don't do it for me, just because I've asked you to. Do it for you. Speak at the memorial tomorrow because it will help YOU. And then let it go." She put her hand on his arm, and looked at him imploringly. After a moment, she stood and walked over to the other side of the room to join Ron and Hermione, who were deep in conversation.

Harry sat where he was for the longest time. Everything Ginny had said swirled around his mind. He hardly dared hope that she was right. That this one act would assuage the heaviness in his chest and the choking guilt that threatened to suffocate him when he was alone in bed at night. He let his mind play over it again and again, as the common room began to get quieter and empty for the night.

He wasn't really aware of it as his hand reached for the quill on the table and wrote one word under the message in his hand.

"Okay," he wrote.

Okay. He'd trust her. He'd try.

The next day, the entire school sat outside next to the lake, on rows of chairs laid out for the occasion. An aisle in the middle led up to a stage in front of them, where the teachers and staff sat in their formal black robes, their faces somber. To their right stood an enormous, misshapen mound, covered by a velvet cloth that hung to the ground. Harry was not looking at this. Nor was he looking at the podium where in a matter of moments he would be addressing the school.

Instead, his eyes were fixed on the white tomb in the distance. It seemed to glow in the sunlight and it was so beautiful, Harry could barely stand to drag his eyes from it. He thought back to Dumbledore's funeral, and how he'd thought it was the worst day he'd ever had to endure. But at that moment, he'd have gladly swapped today for that one.

Finally, with great reluctance and a heaviness that seemed to permeate every cell of his being, he stood, and made his way to the stage.

The image of al those faces in front of him nearly made him run back to his seat. To see them all looking at him, their eyes filled with sorrow, was almost too much for him to bear.

His eyes found one face in the crowd. Ginny gave him an encouraging smile and he drew strength from it.

He took a deep breath and began.

"When I was asked to speak to you today, I nearly said no. I didn't have the first clue of what I could say to try and make this easier for you. I was terrified that anything I did say would make it worse. Then someone made me see that I needed to do this – probably more than you need to hear it, if I'm honest. So I agreed. And when I was wracking my brains for what to say, I remembered this poem. It's by a Muggle named Christina Rosetti, and it's called 'Remember'.

"Remember me when I am gone away,

Gone far into the silent land;

When you can no longer hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future you had plann'd;

Only remember me; you understand

It will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

And afterwards remember, do not grieve:

For if the darkness and corruption leave

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than you should remember and be sad."

He took a shuddering breath to try and calm the thudding in his chest.

"I do not intend to forget the people we lost in battle. But I do intend to be happy. I intend to go on. For there is no greater service that we can do them than by continuing the fight they began. Our world has been torn apart by hatred and prejudice, and it is only now that it's over we can see how ingrained it was – it is only now that we can see the changes we need to make to our lives in order to ensure this evil never happens again. Our loved ones died fighting for a world based on tolerance and equality, and as we go on in our task to finish what they started and change the world for the better, we must carry those qualities in our hearts."

He looked out at the sea of faces, watching him intently.

"We must make sure that we live our lives – not just exist, but truly live – with passion and meaning, and above all, love. For it is love that sets us apart from those we've defeated, and love that will heal the wounds they wrought. So that is the challenge I set you today. Live your lives with love. Do this in their memory, and we will honour them."

As the applause built, he found Ginny's face in the crowd once more, blazing as it had the day she first kissed him. As they stared at each other, the truth of his words enveloped him, and the image of her face stayed with him as he returned to his seat in the front row.

Professor McGonagall took her place at the podium and silence fell once again.

"What Harry has said is very true. I doubt that any of us could have said it better. We must now do everything in our power to continue what our loved ones began, in order to pay tribute to them. In short, we must rebuild the world Tom Riddle sought to destroy. It is now that the real work begins." She paused briefly. "It is not difficult to fight when our way of life is threatened. And it is not difficult to retaliate when the people we love are hurt or at risk. But when that threat has been vanquished, when we have lost people we care about and endured more pain than any of us thought possible – to continue our fight then is doubtless the most difficult task of all. But continue, we must. For them. I can promise you that it will not be easy. But a wise man once spoke of the importance of doing 'what is right, not what is easy,' and it is in his name, and theirs, that we do this – that we work for the values most dear to us, and live each day with love. So without further ado, I present to you the Hogwarts Memorial to the Fallen."

With that, the velvet covering slithered from its place and onto the floor. It revealed a large bronze statue, not unlike the one that had once stood in the Ministry, Harry mused. It showed a giant, a witch, a wizard, a centaur, a goblin and a house elf, standing together in a tight group. Their eyes looked up into the distance, and each held a wand outstretched to the sky. On the plinth on which it stood was the inscription, "For what is right, not what is easy – A. Dumbledore," and beneath that, a list of names of all those who had died on that fateful day.

Harry was vaguely aware of the applause and the sounds of people leaving their seats, but none of it seemed real to him. He sat there, unmoving. Dreamlike. Time slipped by.

Eventually, he came to realize that he was alone. The rows of seats were empty. There was only him left. And it was as if his body moved with a will of its own. He felt himself rise and walk towards the memorial, as if drawn by a magnetic force.

He couldn't take his eyes off the list of names. First of all, he counted them. Fifty three names in all. Then he began to read them. Over and over again, his lips moving silently as he went through the list, becoming increasingly frantic. He wanted to memorize them, imprint them on his soul, to make sure he carried them with his, wherever he went. Faster and faster, he read them, his eyes moving fervently. Soon, he could hardly see them through the mist that formed in his eyes, but that didn't stop him. Instead, he sank to his knees to see them better.

Over and over, he read them.

Faster and faster.

Somewhere, he was aware of a deep moaning noise, coming rhythmically between gasps, and he realized that it was him – it was wrenching sobs that were convulsing his body – and the realization shook him.

He found that he couldn't fight it any more. He finally gave in, and the emotions crashed over him. He cried for all he had lost. He cried for all he had seen and done, for all those who had died and for all that would never be. He cried until his body ached with the effort and he thought he might come apart with it.

He had no idea how long he sat there like that, but eventually the sobs became hoarse moans, and then heaving sighs. Finally he was quiet.

That was then he felt it. He felt himself become lighter than air as the weight of all those years lifted itself from him. He was filled with a quiet peace and an intense relief, unlike any sensation he'd had in his life. Ginny had been right – of course she had. He had needed this. It was as if the pieces of his life slotted together before him and everything became acutely clear.

He knew what he needed to do.

He stood, wiped his face roughly, and marched off to find Ginny.

He didn't need to go far. Before he got halfway to the castle, he saw her running towards him.

"Harry!" she gasped, holding her chest.

"I was just coming to find you," he said, noticing his voice sounded clearer and surer than it ever had before.

"Me too…" she said, trying to catch her breath. "I need to talk to you."

"You're right. But before you say anything, let me just say this. You were right, Ginny. About it all. I did need to do this. I did need something to help me move on from the war, and this was it. I feel as if… as if it's been the worst day of my life and the best day, all at the same time."

She smiled at him, but he didn't let her interrupt his flow. He knew he needed to say this now, before the certainty he'd been filled with escaped him and the words were lost to him forever.

"But you were wrong, too. You said YOU'D moved on, but you haven't. You're still stuck in the day of the Battle. You can't move past the moment you thought I'd died, and I think you know it. Because if you had, you and I would be together by now." She opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her. "No, please – please, I have to say this. I hadn't moved past the war, but neither had you. And I've been waiting for you, and I've had faith that one day you would come back to me. But I realized today – at this very moment – that I can't wait any more. I AM going to live my life with love in each day, and it's going to be with you. I need you, Ginny. Not just your friendship, I need all of you. And you need me, too."

His breathing was coming to him as if he'd run for miles and his eyes searched hers for any indication that what he'd said had touched her in any way. The blood pounded in his ears and his hands shook.

He felt as if he was holding out his soul to her and was waiting to see what she would do with it.

"Are you finished?" she asked with a trace of amusement in her voice.

He nodded.

"When you were standing up there, saying all these things, it hit me. Everything you just said struck me in my very soul. You're right. I KNOW you're right. And I came out here because I couldn't go another minute without telling you that. I need you, too."

For an instant, his heart stopped beating, just before it flew out of his chest and soared into the sky. He didn't wait another second before taking the three steps to close the gap between them. He reached out and grabbed her, pulling her to him. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her to him with every ounce of strength he had.

"I need you, Harry, I do!" she mumbled into his chest. "I'm sorry I took so long to tell you."

He shook his head and clung to her. "I'm sorry it came to this. I'm sorry I hurt you. And I promise, I will never – NEVER – leave you again!"

"I know. I know."

He put both hands on her face, and drew her away just far enough so he could look into her eyes.

The world fell away.

There was nothing but them.

He leaned forward until he pressed his lips to hers, gently enough so that he might've imagined it.

There was nothing in the world but this moment.

They were finally where they were meant to be.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 – Familiarity.

Kissing Ginny was like nothing on Earth. It was out of this world.

But this was no surprise to Harry. He already knew that.

The kisses they'd shared during his previous year at Hogwarts had proved that. All those stolen moments they'd had – in deserted corridors, by the lake, under a Quidditch stand – were all testimonies to the fact.

He had gathered those memories, like priceless jewels to be pored over when he was alone, and in the year gone by, they had in equal measure, both kept him awake and helped him sleep. They'd tortured and delighted him in turns.

The fact that these new kisses had the same effect on him came as no surprise.

He was, however, surprised by the effect that simply holding her had on him. How had he not remembered this part of their relationship with the same vividness?

The feel of her in his arms…

The sensation of her hair on his cheek…

Her racing heart against his own chest…

It was like a balm, soothing away the wounds of the past. Or maybe it was more like a gasp of air to a drowning man. He couldn't decide.

After standing in each other's arms for what could have been minutes or hours, they'd eventually sat where they were, still wrapped together tightly.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. He hardly dared blink in case the scene evaporated.

Every now and then, he dipped his head down to her to kiss her hair, or cheek, or palm, and each time he did, he marveled at it all over again. They were finally together.

Ginny seemed to read his thoughts. "Did you ever think we might not get here?"

He considered it. "No, I knew we would eventually." He tentatively brushed a few stands of gold away from her face. "I knew how I felt."

She sighed contentedly and her eyes fluttered closed. "We'll have to go in, soon," she breathed, not opening them.

Instinctively, his arms tightened around her. "One more minute…"

He knew that once they were back in the castle, the moment he would have to let her go would come all the sooner, and the very idea of it hurt him physically.

God, she looked beautiful… Her head gently leaning back, her creamy skin, her lips ever so slightly parted…

He leaned down to kiss her again – not with the feather-light kisses of earlier, but with surety and the merest hint of desire. His lips lingered longer than they had before, and when he finally pulled back, he stayed only a breath away from her. He heard her breath catch in her throat, and she craned upwards to press her lips to his once again. He felt her hands tighten their grasp on his robes as she caught his bottom lip between both of hers, and he felt their pressure increase infinitesimally.

After several earth-shattering moments, he pulled back, leaving his forehead resting on hers. He breathed again, not having noticed that he'd stopped, and his eyes remained shut.

He swallowed hard and a small sigh escaped.

"Okay…" he whispered. "We'd better go in…"

They stood and began the walk back to the common room, Ginny's arm still wrapped around his waist, Harry's arm around her shoulder, and they braced themselves for the looks and comments they knew they were heading towards.

The common room was quiet. Most people were still at dinner in the Great Hall and the few that lingered in the common room were distracted and subdued.

Harry and Ginny took advantage of the lack of audience to curl up on the sofa together, unseen for the moment.

It all felt gloriously familiar to him. It was as if he had been transported back to his last year at school, with Ginny leaning against him in front of the fire, her head nestled into his shoulder, her fingers laced into his. But there was no feeling of foreboding, like before. No sense of needing to savour every precious second before it was snatched away. She was here, warm and corporeal in his arms, delightfully tangible after so many months of dreams and imaginings, and stretched out in front of them were days, weeks, months of togetherness. And for the moment, blissful anonymity. They could have been sitting under the Invisibility Cloak for all the attention the common room's few inhabitants had given them. It was not what they had been expecting.

He dragged his eyes away from Ginny's peaceful face and gave the room a quick glance. There were three other students in the room with them. Each sat alone – one absent-mindedly flicking through a book, her face blank and her eyes unseeing of the words. One was idly doodling on a scrap of parchment. The other figure caught Harry's attention. It was Denis Creevey. He was watching the sky darken, his expression pinched.

Of course. Colin.

It occurred to Harry that it was in fact the same day of the Memorial. How was that possible? Surely days and nights had passed since that devastatingly sad hour at the lake?

His brain struggled to grasp it. Although HE was happier and freer than he'd been in his entire life, for most of the other students in the castle, they were still trapped in that awful, difficult day, still careering about amongst emotions of loss, grief and anger.

Harry's heart plunged momentarily as he remembered.

Ah, yes – there it was. The guilt. So it hadn't left him entirely. It still lurked in the shadows, somewhere.

But with gratification, he noted that the emotion didn't bite the way it had. It hadn't tried to suffocate him or drown him in the way he'd become accustomed to, although he steeled himself for it anyway. Instead, it hovered in his chest long enough to make itself known, before skulking and retreating backwards and finally disappearing altogether when he felt Ginny stir slightly in his arms.

He smiled to himself.

"You okay?" Ginny mumbled. She twisted around to see his face, and a waft of her delicious flowery scent found Harry. He breathed it in.

"There are no words for how far beyond 'okay' I am!" he smiled.

She chuckled softly.

"It's just…" He allowed himself a small sigh. "I suppose it's just hard, realizing that not everyone else is okay. That's all."

She replaced her head in the crook of his shoulder, where it fit so well, it might have been designed to go there.

"They WILL be okay," she said with a quiet confidence.

After a second he said, "There really is no doubt in your mind, is there?"

"Well, no," she said, matter-of-factly. "Remember how you said you always knew you and I would get to this point? I suppose it's like that. Because of it, really. Because, if you and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, then it proves there's hope for all of them." She snuggled further into him. "We're just luckier – we got there sooner because we have each other."

His heart fluttered at that.

"We do have each other, don't we?" he echoed. "I like the sound of that."

"Mmm."

And so they sat, lost in their own thoughts, whilst Harry indulged himself in the one thing that had tormented him more than any other over the summer – that hair. He reached out his fingers and caressed it softly to begin with, almost timidly, as if he couldn't believe he was allowed to do it. Then, braver, he let his fingers slide into it – heavy and red and silky beyond imagining – and pulled them through it, ever so gently. He repeated the gesture, and felt his fingertips brushed the creamy skin over her cheekbone.

And all over again, he rejoiced at the situation.

This was the scene Ron and Hermione found as they entered the common room from dinner, although they did not notice until they were almost right in front of them.

"Surely you don't want to start the Potions required reading this evening, do you? Not after the day we've had!" grumbled Ron as he approached the sofa from behind, barely registering the top of Harry's head leaning against it's back. "Leave it 'til tomorrow and we'll get a fresh start on it."

Harry could hear Hermione's voice getting closer, and he wondered if he should extricate himself from Ginny a little before they appeared. He quickly decided against it – he was far too comfortable.

"We did miss a whole year, Ron. Maybe we ought to just look over some of the older stuff, just to refresh our memories..? Oh, alright – no need to glare at me! We'll leave it until tomorr- Oh!"

She'd slowed her pace down to almost a full stop beside them. Ron almost plowed into her as she stared at the entwined pair.

"What?...Oh!" His reaction, like his expression, was the same as Hermione's.

Ginny beamed up at them whilst Harry grinned sheepishly.

No one spoke. The two couples regarded each other for a long moment.

"Uh, Ginny, I was just telling Ron about that book you mentioned. I don't suppose you could show me where in the library you found it? Before it closes for the night?" Hermione was obviously trying to convey some message with her eyes, if somewhat unsuccessfully.

Ginny groaned. "Urgh… I find it every hard to believe there's a square inch of that library you're not familiar with, Hermione. Can't we do it tomorrow?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "No. Now."

Ginny finally understood her meaning and reluctantly disentangled herself from Harry. She rolled her eyes, muttering, "I'll be twenty minutes, tops, okay?"

Hermione linked her arm through her friends' in an uncharacteristically girly way and towed her towards the exit. As she turned her back to the boys, Harry heard her mutter, "Goodness, Ginny, is it Christmas already?!"

He laughed softly to himself, remembering their conversation on the train.

Ron plopped down on the sofa looking a little shell-shocked.

"You okay, mate?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, just… Yeah. Weird day, that's all."

Harry nodded in agreement, then screwed up his courage. He might as well get this out of the way.

"Look, are you going to be alright about this?" he asked.

Ron looked startled. "What, THIS? You mean you and Ginny? Well, yeah. Course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Er, well, the lecture you gave me last summer on my birthday might have caused me to think otherwise..?"

Now it was Ron's turn to look sheepish. "Ahh, that. Mmm. Yeah, I might owe you an apology there."

Harry frowned. He was not expecting that.

"Don't get me wrong," Ron continued, "I meant every word of it at the time. You didn't see what Ginny was like, that summer, before you arrived. She was…" He struggled to find a word for it, "… desolate. She spent all her time in her room on her own, or outside under that stupid tree. Mum put it down to Dumbledore dying and everything, but I knew the real reason. It was actually quite painful to watch. She perked up a bit when you arrived – actually started to act like she was alive! But then I saw the two of you in her room, and I wanted to hit you for being so stupid! I knew what would happen – she'd get her hopes up again, you'd leave and I wouldn't be around to keep an eye on her… I just couldn't see it ending well, for either of you."

Harry shook his head, still baffled. "I don't get it. What changed?"

Ron shrugged and said one word. "Hermione."

He didn't speak for a bit, his eyes far away.

"When we were trapped in Malfoy Manor… I understood perfectly why you'd ended it, why you left her behind. We were stuck in that awful cellar and I could hear her screaming…" His face was dark with the memory of it. "It was the worst moment of my life – knowing that they were hurting her and knowing I could do nothing about it. I'd have swapped places with her in a heartbeat. And I wished she was a million miles away, safe. Anywhere but there. Because anything would have been preferable to that torture – for either of us. It was unbearable."

He shook his head, unable to look at Harry, trying to hide the emotion in his face.

"I could never be angry with you for leaving Ginny after that. You did it because you cared about her – to save her that." He looked at Harry with a sad smile.

"And now?" Harry prompted.

"Now – there's no problem, as far as I'm concerned! The world is saved, there are no crazed Death Eaters or evil Dark Lords trying to do you in –" They both chuckled at that. "There's just us, now. I know how much you care about her and I know you would do everything in your power to keep her safe and make her happy. And if I'm honest… no one else is good enough for her."

Harry looked away, embarrassed.

"Thanks, Ron. That means a lot."

Both of them stared at the rug on the floor, uncomfortable with the exchange of emotions.

When Ron spoke next, his voice was thick with feeling.

"Harry, you're more than just my best friend. I count you as one of my brothers. You know that? And… no one else is good enough for you, either."

Harry didn't know how to answer that. Instead, he patted Ron's shoulder heavily, trying to communicate the wealth of feeling he had at that moment for the lank, red-haired teenager next to him in a clumsy gesture.

Ron cleared his throat and stood.

"Right, I'm going to raid the kitchens and get some hot chocolate ready for when the girls get back." He turned for the door, but then changed his mind and looked back at Harry. "Do me a favour, though, yeah? Try and keep all the kissing and stuff to a minimum when I'm around?"

Harry nodded. "Right back at you, mate."

"Ha! Got it."

And with that, they reached an understanding about their respective relationships, and also about their own.

That night, Harry dreamed.

It was not like the nightmares that had once plagued him during his nights in the Gryffindor dorm. This dream frustrated him, but did not unsettle him.

He was somewhere in the grounds of Hogwarts, but it did not look like the grounds that he was familiar with. The grass, normally neatly trimmed underfoot, reached to his waist, and Harry had to wade through it as if through water, pushing it out of his way with his hands. Rhododendrons as tall as he was grew haphazardly in his path, mingling with enormous nettles. Trees that he didn't remember existing grew tall overhead, blocking out much of the light from what he knew (in that strange, dream-like fashion of simply knowing a fact without evidence) was the brightest blue sky.

He was exhausted already, although he'd only walked a few feet.

He knew that somewhere beyond the wild, unruly wilderness of nettles and trees, allowed to flourish with years of neglect, was Hogwarts castle itself, and if he just kept going, he'd find it.

He could hear voices in the distance, muffled by the thick vegetation. They were friendly voices, calling out to gauge one another's whereabouts – encouraging and positive.

Harry tried to move faster, pushing through the grass more vigorously.

Above all the voices, he could hear Ginny's. She was calling his name, drawing him to her.

His limbs ached with the effort, but he kept going.

Finally, he saw some light ahead of him. He all but bounded through the last few feet of overgrown wasteland, the voices calling to him, louder and clearer.

Suddenly, he burst through into the glorious sunlight.

He was in a clearing. The grass was at its usual height, the trees behind him. He could see the castle, a little in disrepair, but whole and in its entirety.

Other figures emerged into the clearing. Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, and of course, his radiant Ginny. The last people to appear were his parents, looking exactly as they did in his photographs.

They gazed around at each other, laughing in relief at having been found and seeing the castle, decrepit but there.

He could hear himself laughing and as he woke, surfacing through layers of consciousness, he was laughing still, his voice loud in the quiet dorm.

The sense of relief he'd felt consumed him still as he looked at his familiar surroundings.

There was a noise at the door, and Ron, already dressed, poked his head around the curtains of his bed.

"Oh, great, you're awake! Get up, get dressed and come with me!"

"Why? What's the hurry? It's still early," he muttered sleepily.

"The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor has just arrived," Ron enthused, "and you are not going to BELIEVE who it is!"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 – Change.

Harry knew that when Hermione had something on her mind to do or find out, she was damn near impossible to stall or distract. Those she tried to rope in to her crusades often attempted to protest or to delay her, but it was always to no avail. Hermione always won. On many occasions, Harry and Ron had argued the virtues of having breakfast first before being forced into the library at some ridiculous hour of the morning, but rarely had they got their wish to be fed before Hermione got hers to get started. It seemed as though breakfast was simply an afterthought to her, much to the boys' chagrin.

Harry never thought he would see the day where he would have to argue this very point with Ron.

Having been harangued into getting dressed at light speed, and only allowed a cursory few moments in the bathroom, Ron had almost physically dragged Harry down the corridor after him, his enthusiasm becoming more and more like impatience with every passing moment. They had bypassed the Great Hall, with its usual tempting spread of breakfast foods, and Harry had gazed at it wistfully, as he remembered a time when Ron would have been on his side to eat first and investigate strange teachers second. But Ron was not to be put off, as he grabbed Harry's elbow and bodily pulled him in the right direction.

As he blearily followed his friend down the corridor, Harry found himself thinking about the classroom they were heading towards.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom had seen more than its fair share of teachers over the years, and each one had brought something different to the room. At one point, the walls had hosted posters of the Unforgivable Curses being used in graphic detail, which had made the pupils cringe away whenever it caught their eye. It had held an array of strange beasts and animals, kept in tanks and cages around the perimeter, which watched the lessons with disdain, indifference and distaste and no doubt had dreamed of a freedom where they could cause mayhem and mischief in the large room.

Even though the room itself had remained the same, its contents and atmosphere had changed dramatically with each new professor, making it feel like a physically different space.

The lessons themselves had changed with every teacher, as well. Remus Lupin's lessons had always been primarily practical and invariable useful, whilst Moody's had left them feeling somewhat uneasy if well-informed. Umbridge had ensured her lessons were "Ministry-approved", which translated into mind-numbingly boring, as well as woefully inadequate (although, they HAD given birth to the D.A. – something that Harry would always be grateful for). In the previous year the lessons had been renamed as simply "Dark Arts" lessons under the malevolent Carrow, and Ginny's tales of what they had entailed had chilled Harry to his core.

So as he headed towards the class, trailing behind Ron who was positively bounding through the halls, Harry was not surprised to feel a combination of curiosity and apprehension bubbling within him. His mind ran through some of his more memorable Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons – trying to recapture Cornish Pixies for Lockhart, facing a Dementor-shaped Boggart with Remus, Umbridge declaring him a liar to the whole class… He couldn't imagine what or who he would find in the familiar yet ever-changing room, and he was unsure how keen he was to find out.

Particularly so early in the morning…

"Come on, Harry! Are you still half asleep or something?" called Ron over his shoulder.

"Er, yes, just a bit! What are you doing up so early, anyway? It's not like you."

Ron sounded a little sheepish when he answered. "I wanted to get down to breakfast. I was starving," he admitted.

"Of course you were…" Harry muttered. Well, at least that explained why Ron seemed to ignore the food in the Great Hall.

"Not that I've managed to eat much, mind you! The food had only just appeared when Ginny noticed a trunk levitating past the doorway and up the stairs. We knew it wasn't a student's trunk, and it wasn't heading for any of the dorms, so we put two and two together and decided it must belong to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Hermione decided it was her 'duty as Head Girl' to go and introduce herself, and made us go with her – wouldn't even let me finish my bacon sandwich! – But I've got to admit, I'm bloody glad I did! You should've seen their faces! I thought Ginny was going to fall over or something! In fact, I still can't believe it! I left them up there and came straight to get you."

"And you decided that as Hermione had deprived you of breakfast, I had to suffer too?" Harry joked.

Ron laughed. "Honestly, Harry – you are going to want to see this for yourself! Breakfast can wait!" He nodded to a room at the end of the corridor.

They had reached their destination at last, and Ron pushed open the heavy wooden door without hesitation.

He took a deep breath and stepped in.

The room looked emptier than he'd remembered, without all the various paraphernalia teachers brought with them to fill up wall space and bookcases, but other than that, it looked much the same as it had always done.

He saw the girls first. Hermione was leaning casually against the wall, whilst Ginny was perched on the desk, hair pulled into a messy bun, looking every inch as beautiful as she had when he'd finally kissed her goodnight outside her dorm last night. She was smiling at him excitedly, and Harry smiled back involuntarily. His pulse jumped and then struggled to get itself into some kind of rhythm as he took her in, and for a moment, he almost forgot why he was there at all. It was only when her eyes darted over to the corner of the room that he recalled the reason for this early morning jaunt.

The man had his back to Harry as he bent over an open trunk. He was taller than Harry, and broader, dressed in a pair of scruffy jeans and a faded black t-shirt. Despite the poor light in the room, he could see livid red scars snaking across the man's bare arms and creeping under the neck of his shirt. They were raised and jagged, and although they were healed, they looked violent and angry against his lightly golden skin. The man had made no attempt to hide them, wearing them as proud battle scars.

Harry instantly remembered seeing the scars on they day they'd been inflicted, and realization dawned. He knew who the man was even before he saw the shock of red shoulder length hair tied back in a ponytail, and his name had escaped his mouth almost before his brain had registered it.

"BILL!"

The figure turned round, flashing Harry a crooked grin. "Alright, Harry?"

"What…? How –" he stuttered, shaking his head and laughing in disbelief as Bill pulled him into a hug.

"See?" Ron grinned. "Told you you wouldn't believe me!"

Bill feigned a look of hurt. "You're not casting aspersions on my ability to teach, are you, Ron?"

Everyone laughed, except Hermione. A shadow of doubt crossed her face and she asked hesitantly, "ARE you qualified to teach us?"

Bill barked a laugh. "Hmm, let's see… I've spent years as a curse breaker for Gringotts, travelling the world dealing with all manner of dark enchantments, I was a senior member of the Order of the Phoenix, active participant in the Final Battle, I've survived maiming by a werewolf, Charlie's penchant for lethal and exotic pets AND the wrath of my darling mother..! What do you think? Qualified?"

Hermione laughed at herself, good-naturedly. "Yes, I suppose when you put it like that!"

"Don't worry, Hermione, the school governors have been over my whole career with a fine tooth comb and were perfectly happy to offer me the post! Admittedly, they didn't have a great deal of choice in the matter, but still…"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, walking over to Ginny and hopping up onto the desk next to her, relishing the chance to be in such close proximity to her again.

Bill sighed and closed the lid of his trunk. "They didn't exactly have a lot of applicants for the job." He sat on the lid and turned to face them. "Professor McGonagall approached me with the idea of me doing it a couple of months back when they hadn't found anyone suitable, but I wasn't all that keen. I'd been stuck behind a desk at Gringotts for ages, which suited me at the time, as it meant I could be around for the Order – but I was kind of looking forward to getting back into it all again – the travelling, the excitement… Then she came to see me again last week and she sounded pretty desperate. So I talked it over with Fleur, we worked out some of the details… and here I am."

Ginny frowned. "What about your job at Gringotts? I mean, this is a pretty big career shift…"

Bill shook his head. "This is just temporary, to begin with. I've said I'll do it for a year and then talk to Gringotts about my options. A lot can change in a year, you know…" He smiled to himself. "This is just the best option for Fleur and I, at the moment."

Ginny didn't look convinced. "I take it she played a big part in this decision?"

"Of course she did. There's not just me to consider any more, Gin."

Her frown got deeper at that comment. "I'm not sure I like this, Bill. You've always been so focused on your career, and you loved your job! You've never wanted to do anything else! Now all of a sudden you're jacking it all in to be a teacher?! I mean, come on! Is this really what you want to do, or is it what Fleur wants you to do?"

"Ginny, I really don't think this is any of your business…" he began.

"Well, I think someone should say it! You agree with me, don't you Ron? Isn't this all a bit sudden? Do you think he would've done this if it wasn't for Fleur?"

Ron shrugged, but his eyes showed that deep down, he agreed with her.

"What about Mum and Dad?" she continued. "What did they say about you giving up your career because of what your wife says?"

"Ginny, it's not just because of what Fleur says – we made a joint decision! I have to think about what's best for my family now."

"We're you're family!" she cried. "Don't you want to know what WE think?!"

"That's not what I meant…" he said softly. He looked down for a second, before peering up from under his lashes, grinning impishly. "I wasn't planning on telling you just yet, but seeing as Ginny's up on her high Hippogriff, I suppose I'd better do it sooner rather than later…Fleur and I are having a baby."

All at once, Ginny's frown evaporated. "What?!"

"She's due around the end of April…" His grin turned into a face-splitting smile, and for a moment, it was as if his scars disappeared, and he was the carefree, handsome young man Harry had met all those years ago, made new in the face of so much happiness.

"Bloody hell!" cried Ron. "Congratulations, Bill! That's great!"

They was a mass convergence of hugging and hand-shaking at this, with a good deal of laughing and smiling thrown on top.

"Oh, Bill, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to be such a cow!" Ginny said. "It's just… Oh, never mind! A baby! I'm going to be an aunty!" She threw herself into his arms for another hug, simultaneously hiding the moisture in her eyes.

"Don't worry about it! If it makes you feel any better, it was like a word-for-word replay of when I told Mum! She said the exact same things, but she wasn't quite as diplomatic!"

She giggled, and wiped her face.

"So does that explain things for you? I wanted to be around for the pregnancy, not Apparating all over the world for the bank, breaking curses. It's still kind of dangerous out there, you know – lots of Death Eaters have gone into hiding and are doing their best to get hold of their assets from Gringotts using any means possible. I didn't really fancy putting myself between them and their money and risk being in danger, knowing that Fleur and the baby were at home, waiting for me… And I couldn't face another year behind a desk! I'd have gone mad! So, when McGonagall asked me again, it seemed like the perfect option. I'll be going home to Shell Cottage at weekends and whenever else I can manage it, and then next year, we'll reassess our options and see where we go from there…"

"A baby… I can't believe it!" Ron breathed. "I bet Mum's beside herself!"

"Yeah, she is! She started knitting the day we told her and hasn't stopped since!"

"I hate to be the spoilsport here, but…" Hermione said, looking awkward and sounding concerned, "What about the whole werewolf thing? Will the baby be affected, do you think?"

For a moment, Bill's face dropped, but he quickly recovered his composure. "We don't know for sure, of course, but if Teddy is anything to go by, we think any effects will be minimal…I won't lie to you, we are a little concerned, but Teddy seems to have escaped all traces of the werewolf gene so far and we're looking at that as a positive sign. After all, apart from liking my steaks a bit rarer these days, I've suffered no ill-effects! There's no reason to think the baby will be any different."

Hermione looked visibly relieved, and nodded.

"Speaking of which, Harry, I've got some photographs from Andromeda – she asked me to pass them along to you." Bill passed an envelope to Harry, who began poring over the photos without hesitation.

"He seems to change so quickly… Do all babies do that?" he asked, amazed, staring at one picture of the blue-haired boy covered in porridge. "I know he's a Metamorphmagus but still…"

"So I've been told," Bill smiled. "Ron was actually a very pretty baby, would you believe? And look what happened to him!"

Ron aimed an obscene hand gesture at his brother whilst smiling sweetly. "Right, I'm off to get some proper breakfast before you insult me any more!" As if on cue, his stomach gave a loud growl. "You coming?" he asked them.

Hermione nodded and Ginny slid off the table she'd been seated on.

"I'll be there in a bit," Harry said, distracted, flipping through the photographs a second time.

Ginny gave him a quick peck on the cheek before heading for the door. "Don't be too long – if Ron gets his way, there'll be no food left for anyone else!"

"Why don't you come back after lunch?" Bill suggested. "I should be all unpacked by then and I can tell you all the goings on form the Order."

The three agreed, and called their goodbyes as they headed down to the Great Hall.

Bill stood and leaned against the spot Ginny had occupied. "You alright, Harry?"

He nodded. Despite the pulling deep in his stomach at the sight of his little godson's photographs, he was fine.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Just thinking about how much I'm missing by being so far away from Teddy. He'll be so different by the time I see him at Christmas. I doubt he'll even remember me." He realized his voice sounded sad, and tried to smile. "I know he's okay with Mrs. Tonks, and she'll do a better job of looking after him than I ever could, but… I can't help but feel like I should be there, you know?"

Bill smiled ruefully. "Yeah, I know. Believe me. But you made the right choice coming back, Harry. You deserve the chance to be a kid again, and you stand a better chance of that here than you do out there in the real world."

"That's what they tell me," he sighed.

"Besides, I'm sure McGonagall will let you nip out to visit them now and then. There's got to be some perks to being Head Boy, eh?" He nudged him playfully.

"So you know about that, as well?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow.

"I may have added my vote to your nomination, yes!"

He groaned, but allowed a small smile, and they sat in companiable silence for a while.

"It's been quite an eventful few days for you, hasn't it?" Bill said. "Coming back to Hogwarts, the Head Boy thing, the Memorial… And getting it together with my little sister, of course."

Harry's head snapped up. He'd forgotten that Bill hadn't known about Ginny and him.

"Don't look so panicked!" Bill laughed. "I'm not going to give you the whole big brother speech! At least not yet… I'm just glad the two of you have stopped messing around and sorted it out. I had a bet with Charlie, you know, about how long it would take you to get your acts together? I believe he owes me five Galleons! He said it would take until Christmas, at least!"

Harry managed to give a strangulated smile in response, whilst Bill launched into another hearty laugh at his expression.

Eventually, when he was calm enough to speak again, he looked Harry in the eye and said, "Just… take care of her, okay? I know you will, but I'm obligated to say it anyway. Look after our girl for us."

His face looked so kind and gentle; Harry couldn't contemplate being annoyed at his over protectiveness. "Of course I will."

"I know. And if you ever need anything… If you ever need to talk… You know where I am, okay?"

He nodded. "Thanks, Bill. It means a lot."

"Now go and get some breakfast before my brother scoffs the lot! I'll see you later." He clapped Harry on the back and turned back to his trunk.

Harry got up and headed for the door, and faced the new day with a smile and a light heart.

Another member of his family had arrived at Hogwarts. It was going to be an interesting year.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 – Reality.

Harry and Ginny were walking hand in hand near the lake, enjoying what was threatening to be the last of the good weather. Although it was still quite warm, the sky had clouded over – its colours ranging from the palest grey to a heavy, almost violet hue, and the air was filled with the scent of the previous night's showers.

The couple didn't feel the need to talk very much. They went for long stretches of time in easy silence, listening to the sounds of their soft footfalls and the breeze in the leaves. After so many months of talking and trying to either ignore or fill electrically charged silences, the contented quiet was immeasurably soothing.

Harry reveled in this new relaxation between them. Yet, at the same time, he felt acutely aware of their physicality – the exact spot where his arm brushed against hers, the soft but insistent pressure of her hand in his. His whole body felt deliciously alive, as if it had been numb all these past months and was finally awakening.

And, at last, they were alone.

After leaving Bill in his new surroundings, Harry had joined the others for breakfast. As predicted, Ron had already worked his way through an obscene amount of food and was showing no signs of slowing down when Harry arrived. While they ate, the hall filled… and emptied again. Harry found himself plotting how he might get rid of his best friends for a little while, as Ron devoured another plate of food, in order to get some longed-for alone time with Ginny. Luckily, he hadn't had to plot for long, for as soon as Ron dropped his toast crust onto his plate and declared himself finally full, Hermione suggested they head to the library. In his new satiated, good mood, he'd followed without as much as a grumble.

Seizing the opportunity, Harry had grabbed Ginny's hand and led her out into the grounds and blissful freedom.

They'd been walking for almost half an hour when Harry glanced at his treasured, battered watch and sighed contentedly.

"Okay, I admit I complained a bit about having to get up so early, but it was definitely worth it! It's still only ten past nine and we have the whole morning ahead of us, with nothing to do and no one to look for us until lunchtime!"

"Mmm, I'd noticed you're not a natural early riser!" Ginny grinned. "But look how lovely it is at this time of the day. Wouldn't it be a shame to miss it by being in bed?"

"I was dreaming about you… Is it any wonder I didn't want to get up?" Harry stared at the ground, a little uncomfortable at his rather lame attempt at flirting, but smiling softly.

"Oh, really?" she asked archly. "You were having 'a dream' about me?" She raised an eyebrow at him playfully.

Harry immediately coloured with embarrassment. "Not… you know, like that…" he stuttered.

Not that he hadn't had THAT kind of dream about her in the past. On the contrary, there'd been many of those wonderful, torturous dreams, from which he'd woken with a racing heart, covered in a sheen of sweat, desperately wishing he didn't share a room with her older brother. They were dreams that made him blush to remember – particularly in Ginny's presence.

"Breathe, Harry! You're getting your glasses all steamed up!" she giggled. She looked at him a little apologetically. "I was only teasing!"

He smiled in return, trying to ignore the heat in his face.

"Actually, I dream about you a lot…" he admitted, and he felt the smile slip from his face as some of the images form his dreams came back to him.

"Really?" she asked gently.

"Mmm. Whatever I dream bout, you always seem to be there, somewhere. Especially when I dream about the Final Battle. Sometimes, I can see you, sometimes I can't – but it's always the same. I know you're in trouble, and I can't get to you."

He could feel the muscles in his jaw tighten as he spoke and his grip on her hand became more secure without him realizing it.

"I hear you calling me and you sound lost or frightened… And it doesn't seem to matter what I do, I can't get to you. Sometimes I wake up and it takes me a minute to realize that it's not real and we're okay. But for that minute… it's hell."

He stared at the ground as they walked, unable to take the intensity of her tender, concerned gaze. When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I have dreams like that, too. I used to get them a lot last year – when we didn't know where you were. It was as if all the worry I couldn't speak when I was awake saved itself up for when I was dreaming. I don't have so many of them now. These days, my dreams are… different." For a moment, her expression was blacker than Harry's. "What about you?" she asked, her voice a little stronger. "It doesn't sound like last night's dream was one of those ones." She tried hard to arrange her face into a smile.

The frustration drained from his face as he answered, "It was. But last night was the first time I reached you."

He stopped walking and lifted her hand, still entwined in his, pressing it to his lips.

Her eyes drifted closed, her face peaceful once again, and she rested her head against his chest. "You found me in the end."

Her arms snaked around his waist and harry shivered despite the warm arm.

"Yes. And I don't intend to let you go ever again," he whispered into her hair.

"That suits me perfectly," she breathed.

He placed a kiss on the top of her head, and another on her temple. She tilted her face up towards him, as he trailed kisses over her cheekbone and agonizingly slowly down to her mouth. His breath hitched in his throat as his lips finally reached hers, and Harry could feel the world shrink around them.

The seconds that passed were beautiful. Unreal. He very nearly groaned when she broke the kiss but managed to contain it when he realized she had withdrawn her wand and was conjuring a blanket on the grass next to them.

Neither one released the other as they sat none-too-gracefully and began their kiss again.

Ginny's lips parted and Harry felt her tongue brush against his own, and this time there was no containing the groan that escaped his. He pulled her even closer and allowed the kiss to deepen and intensify. His mind flashed involuntarily to images from his dreams, all so similar to this, and then there was no more thinking, only feeling.

His hand moved to the nape of her neck, so warm and soft, whilst one of hers tangled itself in his hair. Harry could feel the blood thundering around his body and was aware of the speed of Ginny's breathing and the soft tug of her hand at his shoulder.

He wasn't entirely sure of how it happened, but somehow he found himself reclining on one elbow, as Ginny hovered above him, her body beginning to press against him. Her hair fell around their faces like a heavy curtain, making him feel even more shrouded from the world.

But unfortunately, the world did still exist, and he became aware of its presence once again when he heard voices chattering in the distance.

Ginny must've heard it too, as she gently pulled away from him and sat up, eyes still closed, and drew in a slow, steadying breath.

Harry let his hand slip from its place, sliding down over her collar bone and coming to rest on top of hers on her lap.

"Is it really wrong that I wish we had your Invisibility Cloak right now?" she sighed, her face flushed.

"I was just thinking the same thing," he murmured. He watched her eyes flicker over to the other side of the lake where a group of students had sat, and who were now shooting them surreptitious glances and giggling amongst themselves.

Ginny brushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes. "People were bound to notice we're together eventually. Besides, we've been through all this once before, remember? It wasn't that bad. Just try and ignore it." She focused her eyes on him. "In fact, I have a better idea. I think we should give them something to gossip about…" She reached out a hand and brushed his hair back gently, trailing her fingers down his face. "Are they watching?" she whispered.

All Harry could do was swallow hard and nod.

She leaned forward once more, and placed a lingering kiss on his lips. All at once, the giggles in the distance came to an abrupt halt. He felt her lips smiling against his.

"Let's leave them to ponder that for a while!" she laughed gleefully.

She stood, and pulled him to his feet, and hand in hand, they resumed their walk.

Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione sat in Bill's office, surrounded by plates and goblets from their lunch. They had asked Neville to join them, and thoroughly enjoyed watching his reaction to the newest member of the Hogwarts teaching staff. Although he hadn't known him well, Neville was familiar with the eldest Weasley brother, and Bill had welcomed him into his newly transformed room like an old friend.

Indeed, the office looked quite different to how Harry remembered it. Bill had worked hard at making it look a little more personal, filling it with trinkets from his travels with Gringotts, mysterious-looking books, and of course, several Weasley family portraits! One of them was a photograph from his wedding, and it included a different face to all the others – another red-haired boy, around the same age as Ron, standing in between the twins and smiling bashfully into the camera.

"Recognise him, Harry?" Bill asked, tapping at the glass with his finger.

Harry peered up at him, confused. "Why? Did I meet him? Am I supposed to know him?"

Bill smirked at his bemused expression. "Think hard… I'm sure you know our cousin, Barney!"

Harry burst out laughing, remembering how he had been disguised for the wedding. "That's me?!"

"Yep! And don't you look handsome?!"

"Wow! I can't believe it! I didn't really get to look at it a lot on the day!" He stood and examined the picture carefully. "I'd never have recognized myself!"

"It's an improvement, I'll give you that…" Ron muttered, whilst Harry shot him a withering look.

"It was taken not long before Kingsley's Patronus arrived, I think…" Ginny supplied, looking over Harry's shoulder. "It must have been one of the last photos taken of us all together." She smiled to herself, running her fingers along the frame.

No one said anything for a while, as the realization of it dawned. It was the last picture of the whole Weasley family before Fred died. An air of sadness filled the room, mingling with the silence.

Finally, it was Bill who broke it.

"Speaking of Kingsley, I wanted to talk to you all about that…" he said, sitting down. "I spoke to him a few days ago, and he's planning on sending some Aurors into the school over the next few days to start taking statements. The first of the Death Eater trials will be taking place in a few weeks, so he wants as much evidence as possible from witnesses at the Final Battle, and anyone who had dealings with them before that."

They looked from one person to the other, trying to take it all in. Of course, they knew it was coming, but they hadn't expected it so soon…

"Most of the Order have already given their statements," Bill continued, "but it's important that everyone gives as much information as possible, to make sure that these people are put away in Azkaban for as long as possible. Which means telling them everything. Okay? They'll also want to take some memories form you, for use in front of the Wizengamot. With a bit of luck, it'll mean that you won't have to appear at the trials yourselves. Kingsley is keen that your schooling is disrupted as little as possible and you're kept out of the public eye."

Harry breathed an audible sigh of relief. He had thoroughly expected to be told that he would be required as a witness for all the trials, as he had seen most of the Death Eaters in action at various points and had personal dealings with many.

Bill looked directly at Harry. "Kingsley took on board what you said to him when he visited, that first week at the Burrow. He understands that you want to concentrate on living a normal life and moving on from all this, and he's asked me to assure you that he will do everything in his power to avoid putting you in the spotlight. There will be occasions where you will need to be there at the Ministry, but for the most part, you'll be able to stay here at school."

He nodded weakly. That was still better than he had dared to hope for.

"When will the Aurors arrive, Bill?" Ron asked quietly.

"Next week. McGonagall was adamant you all had a few days grace before it all began. She thought coming back would be hard enough in itself." He looked at them in sympathy as they sat in stunned silence. "This is it, guys. The last leg. By Christmas, it will all be over. We just have to make this one last effort, and it'll be finished."

Neville sighed as he put his head in his hand. "Sorry, Bill. We'll all do whatever we can to help. It's just that… Just when we think it's all over, something else happens, and it's all so real again. First it was the funerals, then coming back here, then the Memorial service…"

"It's like we can't ever get away from it," Hermione finished for him. "Like it just won't leave us alone."

"I know. I feel exactly the same. Every time I go home and visit my family, every time I look in the mirror, I'm reminded of it too. And maybe it's unfair of us to ask you stay strong just a little bit longer. But we need you. Kingsley's relying on you." He looked over at Harry for support.

Harry thought back to the Memorial and everything Professor McGonagall had said in her speech, and nodded. "This is where the hard work really starts. But we can't give up now. We owe it to ourselves to finish this."

Bill smiled gratefully at him, and the others nodded in agreement.

"Bill," Hermione said, frowning, "will the Slytherin students be testifying as well?"

He shrugged. "Yes, the ones that are here. To tell you the truth, only a quarter of the Slytherin students on the roll from last year have returned to school. Most of their parents are choosing to tutor them privately at home. They're worried about reprisals here at Hogwarts, about whether they'll be treated fairly. Some have gone to schools abroad, but not many can afford that."

"I suppose Draco Malfoy's one of those one?" Ron asked darkly. "I bet he's living it up in Durmstrang, or somewhere…"

"No, actually," Bill informed them. "He and his mother are under investigation, so they are currently under house arrest. His father is being held at Azkaban. However, due to his age and the coercion he was put under from his family, it looks unlikely that he'll get a custodial sentence at Azkaban."

"Good," Harry said quietly.

Suddenly, several heads snapped round to look at him.

"WHAT?!"

"Ron, he was just a kid. He doesn't belong in that place."

"He was the same age as us, Harry!" Neville cried. "Age is no excuse for what he did!"

"Maybe so, but you didn't see him! I was there, that night on the tower when Dumbledore died. Malfoy had plenty of opportunity to kill him, but he couldn't do it. He would've let him go if the other Death Eaters hadn't turned up, I know it. He's not evil. Bloody stupid, yes, for letting himself get so caught up in it. Weak, for not standing up for what is right – definitely. But he's not evil."

They stared at him, agog.

"And his mother saved my life! She knew I'd survived Riddle's killing curse but she lied to him – pretty brave considering his Legilimency skills! I'm sure he'd have had no hesitation in torturing her or worse if he'd realized she was lying! All she cared about was finding her son! It wouldn't be justice for them to end up in Azkaban! And that's not what we've been fighting for!" His voice had risen a little without his realizing it and he tried to clam himself down.

"Well, if that's the case, you'll need to tell the Aurors all of this. And if it's true, they'll be able to look into your memories and see for themselves. But I must say, there aren't many who would be as forgiving as you." Bill was looking at him with a mixture of pride and disbelief.

The others seemed equally disbelieving at his attitude, but didn't say anything to contradict him.

Then Ginny spoke for the first time in a long while. "The evidence that we give… do you think it will be in the Prophet? I mean, will everyone be able to hear about it?"

Bill nodded. "I'd have thought so. The Ministry is quite keen to dispel a lot of the myths and rumours that have been going around so I don't think they'll be putting a gag on the newspapers or anything like that. Why?"

Ginny's face blanched for a second, almost imperceptibly, but Harry noticed it straight away. So, it seems, did Neville, who smiled gently at her.

"Oh, no reason. Just wondering," she mumbled.

The conversation drifted off to some of the rumours the Prophet had published over the summer, and the tone of the afternoon began to change into one that was lighter and more hopeful. But Harry couldn't shake the look he had seen on Ginny's face, or the way that Neville had reacted to it.

In fact, over an hour later, once they had wandered down to the common room, he was still preoccupied by the whole conversation. But it came as no surprise when Neville came over to where he was sat with Ginny and the others and asked, "Harry, do you mind if I have a word?"

Ginny was deep in conversation with Hermione, and flashed him a quick smile as he got up and followed Neville over to a quiet table on the other side of the room. They sat down, checking to make sure that they were entirely alone and out of earshot, and straight away, Harry could see something was wrong.

"What's the matter, Neville?" he asked. "Is everything okay?"

Neville looked around uncomfortably and sighed. It looked as if he was struggling internally with something, and he didn't answer immediately. Harry could feel himself getting more and more concerned, the image of Ginny's worried face back in Bill's office was fresh in his mind's eye, and he knew that somehow, this was connected to her. Long seconds passed, and still Neville said nothing. Harry struggled to prevent himself from shaking it out of him in his frantic state of mind, instead saying, "Neville, you're scaring me a bit, here, mate. What's wrong?"

Finally, the other boy seemed to come to some kind of resolution. He looked Harry in the eye and took a deep breath.

"I want to talk to you about last year at Hogwarts," he said heavily. "It's about Ginny."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 - Remembering.

Harry and Neville sat in the quietest corner of the common room, both furtively looking in the direction of their group of friends, who were sitting in what was coming to be their usual place on the sofas, near the fireplace. Ginny and Hermione were talking animatedly about something whilst Ron read a battered copy of "Quidditch Through the Ages", absent-mindedly stroking the hand that Hermione laid casually on his lap. Harry knew that despite their relaxed appearance, each was attempting to quell an undercurrent of foreboding, sparked by the conversation in Bill's office. The mention of Death Eater trials and giving official statements had brought memories of the last year crashing down on them, but no one seemed willing to give in to the thoughts nagging in the corners of their minds.

Neville, however, made no such attempt to hide the tension in his face, and Harry imagined that his own expression was rather similar. He sat rigidly, waiting for Neville to say whatever it was that was causing him such obvious unease.

"Harry, has Ginny talked to you about what went on at school while you were away?" Neville asked.

He let his mind drift back to a conversation at the Burrow, and felt a new wave of revulsion and fear rise up in his chest.

"She let me in on one or two of the highlights," he said darkly.

Neville nodded sagely. "Amycus Carrow?"

"Yeah." He tried to swallow his rage at the memory of her tale. The thought of that disgusting man putting his hands on Ginny… He clenched and unclenched his fists in order to try and release some of the emotions building up in his chest.

Neville looked at him tentatively. "Anything else?"

"Not directly. She mentioned having bad dreams this morning, but didn't elaborate. I thought she'd tell me when the time was right. Sometimes she tenses up and fidgets, like there's something on her mind - but she won't talk about it. And then there was her reaction in Bill's room. You saw that, didn't you? The look on her face when she realized people will hear her evidence? What was that about, Neville?" His voice was becoming increasingly frantic.

Neville glanced over at the group by the fire. "I shouldn't be telling you this. I know she wouldn't want me to… But I'm worried about her, and I think you should know exactly how much she went through last year." He turned to face Harry directly. "You remember what I looked like, when you came to the Room of Requirement the day of the Battle?"

Harry nodded, terrified.

"And you remember me telling you it was the Carrows? Well, I wasn't the only person they enjoyed picking on. Ginny was one of the other people they just seemed to be intent on torturing."

Harry winced. He'd suspected as much, but hearing it from someone who was actually there, someone who had suffered it as well, was almost more than he could take.

"To begin with, it was just detentions. Comments. Letting it slide when the Slytherins decided to have a go - which they did, a lot. But then the DA started stepping up their campaign trying to recruit new members. We organized meetings and tried to keep morale up, that kind of thing. So they started to make things more difficult for us - banning all kinds of group activities, handing out detentions to keep us out of the way… They knew it was us - they had Slytherins acting as spies and they watched us like hawks."

Despite himself, Neville smiled.

"Ginny was great! She's definitely the twins' sister - she found a million different ways of sneaking out of lessons to leave messages for DA members! She wouldn't let anyone else risk it, she'd insist on doing it herself. She'd sneak out of the dorms at night and go out of her way to create problems for the Carrows - sticking doors shut, flooding corridors…Anything to keep them occupied, she said. Anything to keep their minds off trying to find you. In the end, that was the problem. There was no disguising that it was her, or why she was doing it."

He leaned forward, his voice growing in intensity.

"They started to get frustrated - their normal methods of punishment did nothing to her. She wouldn't admit to anything or implicate anyone else, no matter what they threatened her with. So in the end… they stopped threatening her, and actually started to DO those things." He flinched at the memory. "I remember the first time they used the Cruciatus Curse on her."

Harry's heart stopped for a fraction of a second.

The first time. It happened more than once.

He stared across the room at her and tried to breathe away the nausea.

Neville continued. "She was aching for days afterwards and looked totally drained. Well – you remember what it's like… Even that didn't stop her. We begged her to be careful, but it was as if she had a compulsion to do it. It was the only way she felt useful, she said, especially when we didn't know where you were. She kept saying that everyone she cared about was risking their lives in this war and this was the least she could do to help."

He shook his head slowly, regretfully.

"We did what we could to stop her, or at least take the heat off her when she did get caught. Luna or I would admit to doing whatever it was she'd been accused of, just to give her a break from whatever punishment or torture they'd dreamed up. They stopped using prosaic sanctions, like detention. After that first time with Ginny… it was like a floodgate had been opened. The Carrows used the Unforgivable Curses regularly and encouraged prefects to do the same, and it wasn't long before we'd all experienced first hand what they were capable of. It was… awful."

Harry could feel his mind screaming. He'd known, of course he'd known, that things at Hogwarts had been beyond tolerating. He'd imagined these very things happening, in some of his darkest moments alone, images drawn from his memories of Neville's injuries and the little he'd told them on the day of the battle. But to hear these fears spoken aloud, as memories - knowing for sure that Ginny had suffered this pain - it tore apart the small peace of mind he'd worked so hard to achieve. He couldn't drag his eyes from Ginny's form in the distance, as if keeping his gaze on her now could somehow save her from all that had happened.

"We all took our strength from her - from her bloody-mindedness and her loyalty to you… But I could see that the stress of it all was getting to her. She'd gotten so pale and thin, and she always seemed to be in pain from the after-effects of the latest Cruciatus. So I took over as much of the resistance as I could. She hated that, of course! Accused me of trying to act like one of her brothers! But I knew it was the right thing to do, and I wanted to do it. I wanted to be brave, to fight like my parents.

Then it all came to a head when Ginny vandalized a wall, and got caught. She'd written "POTTER FOREVER!" in red across a wall. It was really symbolic for her – it was the wall she'd written on about the heir of Slytherin back in our second year. She saw it as her own two fingered salute to Riddle!"

Harry looked at him sharply. "You know about that?" He hadn't realized that people knew Ginny had been the one to reopen the Chamber of Secrets. Dumbledore had worked hard to ensure that her name had never been mentioned in the aftermath of it all.

Neville nodded. "She told me all about it, after…" His voice trailed off. "That night, two prefects caught her in the act and dragged her in front of the Carrows. They tried their best to get her to admit it, which was a pointless exercise, as she'd been caught red-handed. But I think they wanted to hear her say it, to break her down. They had her in their room for over an hour before I was dragged in. I'd heard her screaming as the pulled me up the corridor. They'd been torturing her, and she was barely conscious, but she still wouldn't say anything."

His face looked haunted by the memory.

"They were determined to make her talk, so they changed tactics, and started on me instead. I lost count of the number of times they used the Cruciatus on me, but it seemed to go on forever. Every now and then, they'd stop and turn to her and ask her if she was ready to confess, but I'd shake my head at her, and she'd just glare at them, silently. Alecto was getting really frustrated by it all. She was screaming at her and firing spells at me, but still nothing worked…Then they came up with the idea of using the Imperius Curse on her instead. They made her… They made HER torture me, instead of them. They used the bludgeoning hex, the Cruciatus, some spells that I'd never even heard of…"

For a few seconds, he was lost in his own painful memories and couldn't carry on speaking. When he spoke again, his voice came from far away.

"That night was the only time I ever saw her cry, Harry. Through all of it. And it wasn't because of the pain they put her through; it was because she was aware of what they were making her do to me. Because she was worried about someone else. Eventually, she confessed. She broke down in sobs and told them it was her, that it was always her, to stop hurting the other children because she was the one who was doing these things. And that was all they needed. I was dumped out in a corridor, and they carried on working on her for another half an hour."

Harry felt the edge of his self control crumble. He put his head in his hands and tried to smother the sobs that were threatening to escape.

How had this been allowed to happen? She had supposed to have been safe. He had broken up with her to keep her from all this, to keep her safe. But now, he realized that it had all been for nothing. She had suffered unimaginably at the hands of these monsters, right here in Hogwarts, and what was more, she couldn't even bring herself to talk about it.

He found his voice from underneath the layers of grief and shock. "Why are you telling me this, Neville?"

Neville gazed over at Ginny, who was sat alone now as Ron and Hermione curled themselves up on the sofa. She stared unseeingly into the empty fireplace, oblivious to all around her. Harry wondered what was going through her mind. Was she remembering? Was she working out what she was going to say to the Aurors – how to put such experiences into words? Or was she far away from school, imagining a time and place where such things didn't matter or didn't exist?

"Because she's ashamed, Harry."

"What?! What do you mean, she's ashamed?! What could she possibly be ashamed of?" he cried, louder than he intended.

Neville shrank back at his sudden vehemence. "I know… But I can only tell you what she told me that day. I can only tell you how she felt, regardless of whether or not it makes sense. I… I'd wanted to take her to Madam Pomfrey, but she refused, as always. She didn't want anyone to know, she never did. After they threw me out, it took me a while to come round. When I did, I hid around a corner and waited for them to finish with her. I thought about trying to tell someone, but… It wouldn't have made any difference. Nothing any of the other teachers did could rein those animals in, by that point. I thought the best thing I could do for Ginny was to wait, and make sure she was well looked after once it was all over. She came stumbling round the corner a little while later, and I managed to catch her just before she passed out. I carried her up to her dorm and stayed with her until she woke up. When she did, she was inconsolable…Merlin, Harry, it was worse than seeing her tortured, I swear! She sobbed and sobbed until she was exhausted, and nothing I said could calm her down. She kept saying over and over that she was weak, that it was all her fault!"

"Weak?! After all she had been through?!"

"I know," Neville muttered.

"How..? What on earth would make her think that?!" Harry's voice was exasperated and heart broken in equal measure.

"She had a whole list of reasons. She thought she was stupid for getting caught, weak for not throwing off the Imperius Curse… She felt guilty for hurting me, and then for admitting to everything they wanted to know…" His voice dropped to an appalled whisper. "And she felt weak because she screamed. Because she didn't endure their torture in silence."

For a long moment, there was nothing to say.

"She felt she was letting you down, Harry. She thought she was failing in the one thing she could do to help. She begged me not to tell anyone, especially you, and I feel terrible for breaking that trust… But she would never tell you all this herself, and that's hurting her more than I ever could by betraying her confidence.

After that, I refused to let her do everything. I insisted she let me take charge – told her she had to be content with being second-in-command." He smiled ruefully.

Harry remembered their joke on the train, earlier that week. Neville's second-in-command.

"She didn't argue too much. She'd lost her confidence by this point, all that anger and passion just drifted into the background and it was replaced by this… stupid, misplaced guilt! She was still actively involved, like when we tried to steal Gryffindor's sword - you heard about that, didn't you? - and she was still single-minded about the cause… but I could see that she'd changed. Nothing was the same after that." He sighed again. "I suppose the only good thing to come out of it was that we ended up much closer, as friends. She told me everything after that. All about the Chamber of Secrets, about you… She talked about you all the time."

His eyes were filled with sincerity when he looked at Harry.

"You mean everything to her. You know that, don't you? That's why she hasn't told you all this - not because she doesn't trust you, but because she's afraid of letting you down."

"She's done anything but let me down," said Harry thickly. "Neville, I just want to thank you for everything you did last year. Not just in looking after Ginny, although I don't think I can ever thank you enough for that. I mean, thank you for everything. Putting yourself in danger, risking your life… Staying loyal. You don't know how much it meant to me. How much it still means."

Neville shook his head. "I'd do it all again. In a heartbeat. I just wish I could have done more. I wish… I wish I could have stopped her from getting hurt. I wish I could have done more…I'm sorry…" he trailed off.

"Stop. Just stop. I don't want to hear that rubbish. You did more than I could have ever have hoped for, and if I said thank you every day for the rest of my life for all you did over the last year, it still wouldn't be enough. If it wasn't for you, there would have been no resistance, and the Battle of Hogwarts would have been over before it had even begun. You put yourself in harm's way to try and keep Ginny safe and you're still trying to do what's right for her even now."

Harry stared at his hands. There was so much more he wanted to say, but as always, there didn't seem to be the words.

"Harry…" Neville began.

He looked up at his friend, hearing the change in his tone of voice.

"I… I just want to make it clear, there was never anything between Ginny and I. We were always just friends, like you and Hermione. People… people used to say things about us, but it was never true. I just wanted to make sure you knew that."

Harry nodded. "I understand."

Neville stood stiffly and prepared to leave. As he did, Harry couldn't help but think about the prophecy. He wondered if Neville knew how close he had come to being in Harry's shoes and how different it all could have been. But then he realized - it didn't matter. He thought back at the bravery Neville had shown throughout the war and the way he had selflessly worked for what was right, no matter what it had cost him, and realized that even if Tom Riddle had decided to mark Neville, and not Harry, as his equal, they still would have won in the end - for Neville was a good wizard, and a remarkably good man.

"Hey, Nev - I know it's a little late, but… Happy birthday, mate."

Neville face cleared briefly. "Oh, yeah! I forgot your birthday is the day after mine! It's so strange to think we were only born a few hours apart… Happy birthday to you too, Harry!"

With that, he turned and headed for the portrait hole, leaving Harry to watch Ginny on the other side of the room, and wonder what on earth he was going to say to her.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 – Comforting.

Ginny stood with her back to the common room. She was fiddling with the dials of the old radio that sat in the corner, searching through stations and static, trying to find some music to listen to.

Harry was sure she was aware of his approaching, as she tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and stood a little taller, as if steeling herself for something.

"Ginny."

"I'll just be a second, Harry…" She did not turn to look at him, but kept her eyes fixed on the task she'd assigned herself.

"Gin…"

"Hang on, I'm just trying to find us something decent to listen to. Stupid radio. Did you know this is the same one that was here when my parents were here? Honestly, useless piece of rubbish! You'd have thought –"

"Ginny!" he said, more sharply.

This time when she heard him say her name, she stopped what she was doing and her hands became still. Her shoulders slumped, and she reluctantly turned to face him.

Her eyes were sad.

"You and Neville looked deep in discussion just now…" she sighed.

"We were," he agreed, taking one of her hands in his.

"I think I can guess what it was about… I suppose you want to talk to me about it?"

Harry nodded.

Her eyes darted around the room. "Okay," she sighed. "But not here…"

The room had filled up since they arrived after lunch and did not look like the right place to have such a sensitive discussion. Ginny led Harry out of the portrait hole and down the corridor.

They passed a number of students as they walked, some of whom smiled at Harry in greeting. Once again, he wished he could blend into the background and away from curious eyes. They passed a trio of girls who stared openly at them, and another group who began whispering as soon as they rounded a corner. He had never felt so conspicuous in his life, or wished so fervently to be anonymous.

He didn't want to return their smiles, or pretend to ignore the whispered comments. All he could think of were the images flashing through his mind, triggered by Neville's story, and the need he felt to envelop Ginny in his arms and refuse to ever let go of her again.

Ginny led them to a quiet corridor, narrower and darker than the ones they had just passed through. After a few seconds, her pace slowed to a stop, and she perched herself on the top step of the winding stone staircase that was partially hidden by an ancient looking suit of armor.

"We won't be disturbed here," she said as Harry sat down next to her.

After the gentle hubbub of the common room, the silence of the common room seemed heavy and oppressive, and for all his emotion, Harry could not think of how to begin, where to start this conversation that he sincerely wished he didn't have to have.

In the end, it was Ginny who tentatively opened up the dialogue.

"So… Neville's been telling you about last year?"

"Yeah…"

"He's told you everything?"

Harry nodded slowly.

"I knew he would… As soon as Bill mentioned giving evidence, he looked at me, and it was as if he could read my mind – he knew I wouldn't want it all brought up again. I mean, I always knew it would. All the stories, all the little details. It was always going to end up out in the open somehow. And I didn't want the first time you heard it all to be in a court or in The Daily Prophet. But I didn't know for the life of me how to tell you! It's like the longer I've gone without speaking about it, the easier it's become to pretend that they're not my memories and it's not me it happened to. The thought of talking about it, especially to you, was just too much to bear. And when Neville looked at me in that office, he saw all of that, in an instant. I could see all my own thoughts and feelings and fears in his face, reflected right back at me. And I knew he'd tell you."

Harry sighed, understanding. "It takes a very special person to see what you need before you're strong enough to see it yourself – I should know."

"Really?" she asked, softly.

"Yeah. Sometimes, I see flashes of it in Ron and Hermione, in the things they say to me. Dumbledore was a master of it." He smiled to himself. "He was infuriatingly good at letting me work things out for myself, knowing the journey was as important as the conclusions I came to. And now, I see you doing it. Telling me the things I need to hear, even if I don't particularly WANT to hear them!"

She smiled back at him, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"You sort of point me in the right direction, even when I'm not sure what I'm meant to be looking for. Or point out to me when I'm being a prat!"

She laughed softly and looked down at her hands.

"You seem to know how to handle me, even when I don't know how to handle myself. It's as if you have an instinct for what's best for me. It's a very special quality."

He bent his down to see her face.

"And that's what Neville was doing when he told me all about last year…"

She nodded, head still bowed. "I know. I'm not angry with him or anything. He did what he did in my best interests. I'm just sad that he had to. I'm sad that there's anything to tell in the first place."

She drew her knees in to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, shivering slightly.

"Are you cold?" Harry asked, circling an arm around her shoulders.

"No, not really. I just feel so… exposed." She gave a wry, humourless laugh. "Silly, isn't it? I feel like all my secrets are out, and all that's left is me – naked and vulnerable."

Harry shook his head. "But I don't understand, Ginny. WHY were they secrets? Why didn't you tell anyone? Why couldn't you tell ME?"

She looked at him, her eyes desperate and lost.

"Because what happened that night was the very worst of me! And I don't mean it was the worst thing that's ever happened to me – although it's not far off – I mean, it was all the parts of me that I hate and would want to change all rolled up into one horrible experience. It's bad enough having to look in the mirror and face myself after it, let alone have to face YOU! It was all my faults and weaknesses, all my worst flaws, and I didn't want you to see me like that! I wanted you to think better of me."

"But that's ridiculous, Ginny! I've never thought more of you than I do right now!" He took her hand and clutched it tightly. "I am so proud of everything you did and the strength you had! I… I really can't fathom what you mean when you say you're ashamed."

As he looked into her eyes, Harry could see that she didn't believe his protestations in the slightest. She was too deeply caught in her own feelings to even try and understand his.

It was as if he was seeing her – really SEEING her – for the first time, drowning in the self-doubt and anguish that must have been plaguing her all this time. Instantly, he recognized it. He had seen it in the shadow that crossed her eyes whenever she talked of the past, and the hesitation behind her smile. He'd seen it in her puckered brow and fidgeting hands, and now he realized, it had been just below the surface of everything she's said and done all summer. This was just the first time he'd seen it without the disciplined, outward façade of self-confidence she'd worked so hard to maintain.

When she spoke, her voice was filled with bitterness and tinged with misery and disgust.

"What, do you want me to list it all for you, Harry? Do you want a catalogue of everything I did wrong? Okay, fine! Firstly, I got cocky and careless and I let myself get caught. Then because of me, Neville got dragged into it all and got tortured."

She ticked them off on her fingers as she spoke, becoming visibly distressed and agitated.

"I wasn't strong enough to throw off the Imperius Curse and I let those monsters get inside my head. And I tortured my friend! I had to listen to him screaming in pain, knowing it was me who was doing it! Do you have any idea what that was like?! Do you know how often I hear that in my dreams?! And then I told them everything they wanted to know! All about what I'd been doing for the DA, how I'd got out of classes, how I avoided prefects, what I planned to do next… The whole time, I kept thinking, Harry wouldn't have done this – he'd never have given in, he'd never have got caught. But all I could see was Neville bleeding… and my whole body hurt so much!" She drew in a breath, half-sobbing. "It hurt to even breathe, and I just couldn't take it! And I knew I was letting you down, but I just wanted it to stop! I'm so sorry, Harry! I just wanted to make it stop! I'm… I'm – so-"

Finally, the sobs took over her and she couldn't say another word. They burst from her with the ferocity of something that's been caged in for too long and she gave herself over to them. As she cried, she seemed to curl in on herself and physically crumple under all the weight of her guilt.

Without thinking, Harry pulled her over to him and pulled her head down onto his chest. He held his arms around her and braced his body against her violent sobs and waited for the storm to pass.

As the months of pain tumbled out of her, he felt his own eyes fill. His own heart ached in sympathy for her, but all he could do was press his face into her hair and rock her, gently and rhythmically, the way he had Teddy only days before.

He waited.

It was a long time before the sobs petered out, and longer still before the tears stopped and her breathing returned to normal, but even then Harry couldn't bear to let go of Ginny. Instead, he placed the softest kiss on her forehead and wrapped his arms around her a little tighter.

He began to whisper to her, not daring to raise his voice in the deafening silence of the corridor.

"You're wrong, Ginny… You're wrong. It's exactly what I would have done. I would have said anything if I thought it would stop someone I cared about from being hurt, and I will never, never blame you for that." He sighed softly. "I know what the pain of the Cruciatus is like, and I know how it feels to have someone evil get inside your head. I know how it feels to think you've let someone down, and how it feels to have the weight of it all on your shoulders. I… I understand guilt, and shame, and fear. I understand what it's like to have memories so bad that you bury them away in your deepest parts and pray that they never have to surface. And above all that, I know what it's like to carry it alone, never telling anyone. That's what breaks my heart about this – that you've suffered it alone when you didn't have to."

She twisted in his arms and looked up at him tentatively.

"If anyone understands what you're feeling right now, it's me. Okay?"

They stared at each other in the dim light, Ginny's eyes searching his. Eventually, she nodded slowly, before resting her head on his chest again. "Okay."

"Promise me you'll talk to me in future, Gin?"

She sniffed and murmured, "Even if I talked to you from now until I was fifty, I couldn't tell you everything that happened, Harry. There was just…too much." She sounded so tired, and so sad.

"I know that. I don't think we'll ever be able to talk about everything that happened, either of us. But most things – the things that keep you awake or haunt your dreams, the things that hurt you and worry you – those things… I want you to tell me. I want to be able to help. Or at least listen."

She nodded again.

"I know what you're like, Ginny. You want everyone to think you're invincible – that you don't need babying because you're the youngest or protecting because you're the only girl – I understand that. And I understand that you can't help but want to take care of everyone else and hold us all together, just like your mum. Always 'getting on with it', no fuss, no nonsense… But it's okay to be vulnerable sometimes, you know? It's okay to let someone else take care of you, once in a while."

She gave a reluctant chuckle. "You're a fine one to talk, Potter!"

He laughed quietly. "Okay, I admit, it's something I need to work on as well!" he conceded. "But we can work on it together, can't we?"

She wiped her tear-stained face and swallowed. "Thank you. For being so understanding."

"It's the least I can do, after everything you've done for me. I wouldn't have got this far without you, Ginny – believe me. I'd still be sitting under that tree at the Burrow, blaming myself for everything and anything, too scared to face the real world again. You stopped me from living in the past and kept me in the present. And now that we're together, I feel like I even have a future…"

She sat up and looked at him, eyes shining

She reached up a trembling hand and cupped his cheek gently as she looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "In those first few days after the Battle, I used to wonder how the hell we'd get through all of this. So many awful things had happened, I thought we needed a miracle or something to come out the other side. But now… Now I think maybe we just need each other…"

He leaned down and touched his lips softly to hers. "I think so too."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 – Friends.

Harry and Ginny spent longer than they'd anticipated sat on the top of the staircase. They'd remained wrapped around each other as the sun moved and prepared for its slow descent on the other side of the castle, taking with it the little heat that had been in the already chilly corridor. When the temperature finally became uncomfortable, they reluctantly stood and strolled back towards the common room.

Ginny's tears had faded away, and although her eyes were still red and her skin paler than usual, her expression was lighter than it had been in months, more peace-filled and less pinched. She walked in time with Harry, her arm around his waist, his arm curled protectively around her shoulders.

Harry couldn't help but glance at her with every few strides.

The day's conversations had left him with, among other emotions, a new sense of admiration for her, and he found it hard not to marvel that something that appeared so delicate and soft could in fact be so tough and strong, like an intricate spider's web spun with steel, or the daintiest flower constructed from iron.

Of course, he'd always known that Ginny was exceptional. A mixture of the twins' quick wit and mischievousness and Percy's tenacity, combined with Ron's fierce bravery and Molly's enormous heart. She could make him laugh and make him think and dazzle him simply by being in the room, all without even realizing it.

And today's revelations had done nothing to lower his estimations of her, as she had feared. Instead, he found his feelings for her had redoubled themselves and continued to grow with every moment that passed, as he mulled over all she had seen and done and borne.

She never looked more beautiful to him than she did at that moment, tearstained and disheveled.

Incredibly strong yet infinitely vulnerable.

An exquisite contradiction.

And more amazing than that, no one else even saw it. No one saw this other side to her. They had no idea of what she had been through or how she had dealt with it. They weren't privy to her deepest insecurities or worst nightmares the way he was. He felt closer to her than he's ever imagined possible, and he felt incredibly lucky for that.

Harry was still deep in thought as they approached the common room and barely noticed a familiar face ambling along, wand tucked behind her ear, a dreamy expression on her face.

"Luna!" Ginny cried.

Luna, wakened from her reverie, broke into a huge smile and skipped towards the couple before enveloping them both in a huge hug.

"Oh, it's so lovely to see you both! I was just on my way to find you!"

"Where've you been? I was starting to worry that you weren't coming back!" Ginny exclaimed.

Luna smiled sheepishly at them. "Oh, it's a bit of a long story, I'm afraid. Where's everyone else?"

"In the common room," Harry replied. "Come in and see them!"

"I don't think I'm allowed, Harry. I'm a Ravenclaw, remember? I don't think the portrait would let me through."

"Rubbish! Of course you're allowed! After everything you did last year, I'd like to see someone try and stop you! Besides, I'm Head Boy now, and I haven't used my new-found power at all yet!" he joked. "So I'm starting now, and declaring that I give you express permission to come and visit us! So there!"

Without waiting for a reply, Ginny linked her arm with Luna's and steered her in the direction of the Gryffindor common room.

"Head Boy?! Harry, that's fantastic! I suppose you're really pleased!"

Harry gave a small grimace. "Er… well, it's taking some getting used to!"

"Really? Well, I think they made a fantastic choice in you, even if you're too modest to see it yourself."

Harry blushed a little, but smiled in spite of himself. "Hermione's Head Girl, as well…" he said, trying to shift the focus away from himself.

"Goodness, that's quite a team, isn't it? I suppose she's already bursting with ideas, is she?"

"Why don't you ask her yourself?" Ginny giggled, giving her password to the portrait and holding the entrance for her to go in. Luna hesitated for a second before grinning and clambering through.

Harry could hear the shouts of surprise and welcome before he followed her through. He found Luna at the heart of a group hug, consisting of Neville and Hermione, with Ron beaming somewhere behind them.

"For a minute there, I didn't think you were coming back! Where've you been?" Neville exclaimed.

Luna disentangled herself and sighed softly.

"My father wasn't too happy about letting me go," she breathed, as she sat on the old overstuffed sofa.

"But I've hardly heard from you all summer," said Neville. "And you didn't come to any of the funerals… I thought maybe you didn't want to hear from us… That you wanted to forget about everything and… everyone." He looked at her with a mixture of bashfulness and hurt. "Not that any one would have blamed you."

Luna's delicate features stretched into an expression of absolute shock "What? Oh, Neville, of course I didn't! I missed you all so much!" She placed her hand on top of Ginny's, who sat cross legged on the floor in front of her. "You're the only friends I've ever had and you all mean the world to me! Of course I didn't want to forget you!"

Harry thought of the pictures of them all that he'd seen in her room during the Horcrux hunt, and his heart contracted a little at the innocent honesty of what she'd said. He remembered all too vividly what it was like to spend years feeling friendless and isolated, the way he had as a child in Little Whinging, and he felt a wave of affection for Luna.

She shook her head sadly as they all looked on at her.

"It was my Dad. He blamed himself for me being captured and held prisoner. It didn't seem to matter what I said to him, he just couldn't understand that it wasn't his fault. He wouldn't let me out of his sight for the first few days, which was really rather sweet, but it did get a little wearing…" She sighed a little before continuing. "He started to worry about any Death Eaters that hadn't been recaptured and he got a little paranoid… He insisted that I didn't go to any of the funerals, just in case there was some kind of ambush, and I did want to go – really, I did – but he got so upset and agitated… I was too worried to leave him." Luna looked at Ginny and gently said, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you all."

Ginny swallowed and tried to smile. "Don't be silly, Luna – there's no need to apologise!"

"But there is!" she protested. "I felt dreadful about it! I thought of you all, though, the whole day. I even thought about sneaking out, but he kept such a close eye on me, there was no chance of getting away with it. I suppose he must have known I was considering it, because the next day, he arranged for us to go away. He had packed some bags and arranged for us to go to Africa. He said it was for research on a new article on vanishing Tebos for the paper called "Out Of Sight – Out Of Mind?", but I think he just wanted me far away from everything that was going on here. It was so frustrating! I had a wonderful time there, and it was great to be able to spend time with Daddy and see him relax a little at last, but it was as if it wasn't real. The real world was miles away, and people were grieving and lives were being rebuilt. When we got back, he threw himself into work and expected me to do the same. When I mentioned packing my things again to come back to school…"

Her tiny face fell at the memory.

"He was devastated. He assumed that I'd be staying at home with him, he didn't understand why I would want to come back to where it all happened. He tried everything to make me stay. He forbade it at first, saying it wasn't safe and that it would be too upsetting for me. When I pointed out that I was of age and that it was ultimately my choice, he started pleading and even offered me the job of Deputy Editor of the paper if I stayed. He actually begged me not to leave him again."

She looked down at the carpet and her voice dropped as she went on.

"In the end, it was too much to watch him like that. I said I'd stay. He was so happy! He started planning our next trip away and talking about all the ideas he had… But as soon as I said it, I wished that I hadn't. Then on what should have been my first day back, all I could think about was you guys. I imagined the journey and the banquet and the Sorting… and I wished I was with you. It felt wrong, not being there. Like things would never be right unless I came back and we finished what we started - together. So that night, I packed my trunk. I thought about just leaving and not telling him, but I knew that wasn't the right thing to do. So the next morning, I sat him down and told him that I'd changed my mind and was going to finish my NEWTS back at Hogwarts with my friends. He just nodded and said nothing. He even helped make the arrangements. He knew I wouldn't be happy unless I did this. He's just so scared of losing me again."

She shook her long hair out of her face and sat up a little straighter.

"As soon as I started off, I could feel myself getting lighter. All the heaviness I'd felt over the summer started to fade away, the closer I got. And even though it was scary to be coming back to where it all happened, it was exciting too! Do you know what I mean?" Her eyes sparkled as she spoke. "I was coming home!"

Neville smiled warmly at her. "Yes, I think we all know exactly what you mean."

"And here I am! So tell me everything! What's been happening? Although some things I can guess for myself, of course…" she grinned, as she looked at Ginny's hand nestled comfortably within Harry's. "How have you all been?"

Neville immediately launched into a description of his new role at the Herbology department, face lit up with enthusiasm, and Ron described Ginny's birthday party in raucous detail and before long, they were howling with laughter and thoroughly relaxed in one another's company.

"And you'll never guess who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is!" said Ginny.

"It's Bill, isn't it?" Luna answered.

"How did you know?!" cried Ron, evidently put out at not being able to surprise someone else with the news.

"Oh, my trunk got stuck at the top of the stairs when I came in, and I tried a Jolting Charm to try and push it around the corner and past the banister, but it sort of went a little awry and the trunk flew about three feet down the corridor and knocked over one of the suits of armor! Bill appeared to see what all the noise was about, and was kind enough to help me reassemble it all!"

They collapsed once more into a fit of spluttering laughter.

"He mentioned that Aurors were coming to take some statements in the next few days…"

The laughter faded away at that, and the smiles looked a little less natural than they had, as the group remembered the afternoon's conversation with the eldest Weasley.

"Oh, it's nothing to worry about, honestly!" Luna reassured them. "They visited Daddy and I last week and we gave our statements then. They were perfectly lovely about it all, very polite and sensitive. I don't think they liked their tea very much though…"

Harry couldn't help but snicker at the memory of the Lovegood's tea.

"But really, there's no need to worry about their visit. It means they'll be putting the baddies behind bars soon enough!"

The innocent, childlike expression made Harry smile and soothed away the sense of dread that had sneaked its way into his chest at the mention of interviews and statements.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," came a small voice from beside him. Ginny gave a watery smile at the assembled group. "The sooner we start talking about it all and telling the world just how much we went through, the sooner the people responsible can be punished for their crimes. Even if it is hard to do."

"Quite right," smiled Neville, his eyes full of pride.

Nobody spoke for a minute or two, as they became lost in their thoughts.

"It feels nice, doesn't it?" Hermione said.

"Which part?" asked Ron. "Knowing the Death Eaters and their friends will get what's coming to them? Being able to talk about what happened last year? Finally having the chance for a normal life?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Well, yes, all of that… But I meant, all of us being together again. Here. Safe."

Harry looked around at his friends and sighed contentedly. It did feel nice.

"It feels better than that," smiled Ron, as he snaked an arm around his girlfriend's waist. "In fact, I'd so far as to say it feels bloody brilliant!"

Suddenly and without warning, Luna jumped up from her seat and leapt forward. Something had caught her eye, and whatever it was had caused her whole face to light in pleasure.

A tall, dark figure has approached them, smiling tentatively.

"Hello, Luna. It's good to see you."

"DEAN!" she cried, and propelled herself towards him and into his arms. He caught her swiftly and wrapped himself around her.

The group watched as she pulled back just enough so she could look at him, running her hand over his cheek which sported a thin, jagged scar from his duel with Dolohov. She beamed at him.

"I missed you so much!" she cried, before pressing her lips against his in an intense kiss.

Harry chuckled, staggered at the display of affection. "When did all this happen?!"

"Shell Cottage, of course," Hermione supplied. "They got a lot closer when they stayed there, and got together just after the Battle. Honestly! Boys! Don't you notice anything?"

"Obviously not!" he exclaimed. "This is going to be an interesting year…"

Judging from the looks of amused surprise on the faces of Ron and Neville, they agreed.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 – Retribution.

The Gryffindor common room was filled with the watery sunlight that comes with early autumn mornings. It left dappled patterns on the colourful old rugs, and shimmered off the gold hangings on the wall, echoing the gently shifting colours of the leaves on the trees outside. The reds and golds of the room's décor seemed alive with it all, and added to the atmosphere of the morning. Despite the early hour, the room was filled with the sound of students chattering, discussing the day's classes and the teachers they had been assigned.

Harry stood at the table, watching as Hermione piled books into a battered-looking bag. Every now and then, he'd find himself sneaking looks over at Ginny, who leaned against the wall, twirling a lock of red and gold around one of her fingers. She caught his eye during one of his surreptitious glances and smiled warmly at him. He suddenly remembered that he didn't need to pretend that he wasn't entranced by her any more, and felt an enormous grin spread across his face in reply.

His thoughts were interrupted by an irate Ron, watching the scene in exasperation.

"Are you lot ready yet? Come on – I want to make sure we get good seats near the front!" He danced from foot to foot in barely concealed impatience.

Hermione looked at her boyfriend suspiciously. "You do know that we're going to a lesson, don't you? Not a Quidditch match, not lunch… A lesson."

Ron rolled his eyes at her. "Hysterical, Hermione. Really. Ready now?"

Hermione packed another book into her already bulging bag whilst answering, "Yes. Done. It's just not like you, that's all. You normally save your enthusiasm for something that involves food."

Harry smirked as Hermione winked at him.

"But it's not just any lesson, is it? It's our first lesson back, and Bill is teaching it! Our Bill! You've got to admit, that's something to get just a little excited over."

"Well, you can stop getting your wand in a twist – I'm ready to go. Believe me, I'm not complaining, Ron! Whatever gets you enthused about school is fine with me." She heaved the bag over her shoulder and they headed for the portrait hole, Harry and Ginny following a step or two behind.

As they walked, Harry felt his hand intermittently rise to his throat, trying to loosen his school tie.

He realized, as he ran his fingers between the gap between his collar and his skin for the umpteenth time, that in all his years at Hogwarts, his tie had never bothered him before. He'd worn it day in, day out without thinking, and certainly without feeling this intense desire to rip it off and fling it to the ground.

As they made their way through the corridors, he tried to remember where this hatred for wearing a tie had come from.

He remembered having to wear one for his hearing at the Ministry, just before the start of his fifth year, and whilst it was not one of his more cherished memories, it wasn't what sparked this discomfort.

He recalled charming this very tie black for Dumbledore's funeral the year after, and how miserable and downright abandoned he'd felt, putting it on before the ceremony. The grief and foreboding that had consumed him that day prickled behind his consciousness at the thought of it, and for a moment he thought that was where the aversion to the garment had started.

But, no. That wasn't it.

That memory didn't produce the choking, suffocating sensation that he had experienced whilst putting his tie on that morning.

The feeling that he couldn't catch his breath, or the tension of the material against the rapid pulse in his throat, or the blind, abject panic.

And that's when the memories hit him. The funerals.

That was the first time he'd felt that way about putting on a tie – when he was getting dressed for Colin Creevey's funeral.

It had been the first in a long line of difficult and premature goodbyes, and the thought of facing Colin's family and all the other mourners had sent Harry into paroxysms of anxiety.

He remembered it all clearly now. The whooshing of blood in his temples as journalists flashed cameras at him during the walk behind the coffin. The lump in his throat that would not be swallowed. The feeling that he couldn't get enough oxygen in each breath and the constricting, asphyxiating feeling of the black tie around his neck.

Instinctively, his hand made another attempt at loosening the tie.

He'd felt the same at every funeral he attended over the summer. Each one paralyzing and strangling him with grief and guilt. None more so than the last one – Fred's. The last time he'd worn a tie.

Ginny must've noticed the pained expression on his face and the way he fidgeted with his collar, as one of her soft, white hands placed itself over his trembling one, stilling it.

"Come here," she muttered, pausing for a moment as she undid the top button of his shirt and adjusted the tie. "Better?"

"Er, yeah. Thanks."

They began walking again, increasing their pace slightly to try and catch up with the other pair.

"It must be strange – wearing a school uniform again after so long," Ginny smiled.

"Mmm. Not the most comfortable outfit in the world," he admitted.

He neglected to tell her the real reason for his discomfort, choosing not to break the spell of the bright new morning and the promise it held.

Maybe I'll tell her later, he thought.

"I know what you mean, Harry," said Hermione over her shoulder. "It feels rather odd, doesn't it? And I look dreadful, too! Like an overgrown schoolgirl! Urgh!"

Ron looked at her slowly, his eyes running over her attire thoroughly, and his lips curled at the corners.

"I think you look –"

Hermione came to an abrupt halt and narrowed her eyes at him.

"What? Ronald, if you complete that sentence with some pervy comment about school uniforms, I swear I'll hex you so badly that it will be your last coherent sentence of the week. Understood?"

Ron's eyes widened slightly, and he swallowed visibly.

"Lovely. Um… I think you look… lovely," he stuttered.

For a moment, Hermione said nothing, glaring, before she smirked slightly and said, "Why, thank you, Ron!"

Her boyfriend began to breathe normally again in relief, whilst Harry and Ginny tried to smother their laughter.

And with their laughter, Harry could feel the bad memories slip away and his body relax, and by the time they entered Bill's classroom, he too was breathing normally again.

As he had expected, the room had already begun to fill with students. The whole of the front row of desks were already filled with people who looked familiar to Harry, although he was a little unsure of their names. Bill was yet to arrive, but he was sure that news of his appointment as professor had reached most of the school already, hence the early turn out for the class.

The group slid into the second row of seats.

"See? If you hadn't been so slow, we could've been sitting where they are…" Ron complained quietly, but as he dropped his bag to the floor, something caught his attention over at the door.

Instead of sitting down, he stiffened, and a deep frown appeared on his stony face.

Harry's eyes followed his, and he saw a group of three boys enter the class. The tallest one was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't remember where he had seen him before. He didn't recognize the others at all, but something told him that Ron did.

"Ron? What's the matter?"

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but as he did, a small gasp came from Ginny. She too was looking in the direction of the door and had frozen momentarily in her place. She quickly regained her composure and sat down, her head facing determinedly straight ahead, as if she could not bear to look behind her.

"Sit down, Ron," she said quietly.

Ron, however, hadn't moved. His mouth had set itself into a grim, hard line and his eyes blazed as he glared at the figures moving into seats towards the back of the room.

"Ron! Sit!" Ginny repeated, her voice slightly sharper.

Without looking away, Ron obeyed, and sat at the end of the row.

"What the hell is going on? Ron, you look as if you're about to explode! Who are those guys?" asked Harry, confused.

"The one in the middle is Harper," he answered through clenched teeth. "He acted as a substitute Chaser for Slytherin once or twice before they made him a Beater. The other two are his cronies. All Slytherin and all-round tossers."

"I don't remember them…" Harry said, racking his brains for some memory of them.

Ron scoffed. "Ask Ginny, I'm sure she remembers them."

Harry's eyes immediately swiveled towards Ginny.

"The git knocked me off my broom once or twice during matches last year, that's all," she said, with a carefully crafted air of nonchalance.

"Knocked you off your broom?! Ginny, Mum said you fractured your shoulder AND your skull and ended up in the hospital wing for a week! That's hardly a bit of rough and tumble in a Quidditch match – he was trying to hurt you!" His face was scarlet with anger.

"Yeah, him and the rest of the team. Leave it out, Ron – it was Quidditch. It happens. No reason to get all het up about it now."

Ron looked at her incredulously, whilst Harry just watched, speechless.

"Fine. Maybe so. But Dennis said he was a Prefect last year, and he enjoyed his duties a little too much, if you know what I mean." His voice had become a sneer. "Are you telling me that's no reason to get 'het up'?"

Ginny turned slowly towards him, lips thin and eyes narrowed.

"I remember, thank you, Ron. I WAS here. But you heard what McGonagall said – the past is over and we have to try and get on with the present, without any prejudices or preconceived notions. That's what I'm trying to do and I suggest you do the same!"

Ron sat back in his seat slightly and turned to face the front.

Harry looked from him to Ginny, and back again. Both now sat doggedly facing forwards, and Harry recognized the tell-tale picking of the cuticles that alerted him to Ginny's unease, despite her unexpressive face. He took one hand in his and held it firmly, running his thumb along the soft skin. She glanced at him, and her face softened slightly before returning her gaze towards the teacher's desk.

"Bunch of knobs shouldn't be allowed back, if you ask me…" muttered Ron under his breath. "We certainly shouldn't be made to share a class with them…"

A voice called out from behind them, "If you've got something to say, Weasley, then say it! Stop muttering and tell us all!"

The gentle chatter that filled the room disappeared.

"Well?" came the voice again.

Ron slowly stood and turned in the direction of the voice. He walked over to the back desks, Harry, Ginny and Hermione moving quickly behind him, tension palpable.

"I said, we shouldn't be made to share a class with a bunch of knobs like you… I mean, I understand that Slytherin have to be let back into school and everything, however distasteful it is to the rest of us, but I don't think they should be put in a class with people who lost someone…"

Ron drew himself up to his full height in front of the now-standing Harper, whilst Harry hovered behind him, sensing danger in his friend's tone.

"You're not the only ones who lost someone because of the war, you know," Harper said, angrily.

Ron scoffed. "I hardly think your dad hot-footing it abroad to avoid arrest counts as 'losing someone', do you?"

"We all suffered last year, Weasley," he growled.

"Some more than others… I was talking to Dennis the other day. He told me all about that little Saturday detention you and your friends hosted last year. He showed me some of the scars he has."

"Wasn't my idea," he said shortly. "The Carrows could be very… persuasive." Harper glared at Ron.

"You're saying they made you do that? Ha! Really? Maybe that line worked on the Aurors, but you're forgetting, Harper – I know you." Ron leaned forward, until his face was only inches away from the other boy's. "I know you're views and I can't imagine you needed a lot of 'persuading' to do those things…"

Harry watched Harper's face carefully. For a moment, he was almost convinced that he was telling the truth, until he saw one corner of his mouth twitch and slowly curve upwards into a cruel smirk.

He felt the blood drain from his face as he realized the truth of Ron's words.

For a long moment, nobody moved.

"You disgust me," said Ron, in a low and dangerous voice.

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder and gently tried to pull him back. "He repulses me, too, Ron. But don't sink to his level. Come and sit down," she said quietly.

Silence.

Eventually Ron spoke. "You'd better keep out of my way, Harper. I mean it." He began inch his way backwards and turn back towards their seats.

"You're threatening me, Weasley?! What a joke!" Harper's face contorted with derision. "Threaten me again, and I can promise you your blood-traitor mother will be crying over another lost son!"

Then it all happened in a second.

Ron, who had been retreating, suddenly spun around with an amazing speed, crunching his fist into Harper's sneering face, the sound echoing in the silent classroom.

"Don't you EVER speak to me about my brother! Do you understand?! You're not fit to speak of him!" he roared.

Harry had dived forwards, clutching Ron's arms behind him, despite feeling that he could quite easily let him go and watch him launch himself at Harper again, after that comment.

But Ron wasn't struggling. He stood stock still, although trembling slightly in his rage, teeth bared.

He was suddenly aware of the fifteen sets of eyes that were on them, and the circle of students that had formed around them. Harper's two friends stood next to him as he clutched his nose, their wands drawn and pointed in their direction.

"It's alright, Harry. You can let me go. He's not worth the detention."

Harry reluctantly let go of Ron's arms and stepped back warily, his heart thumping in his chest.

The group of them walked back to their desks. Once there, Ron thumped into his seat and sat stiffly, eyes closed, holding Hermione's hand, breathing deeply and deliberately.

Harry sat equally uncomfortably, trying to process all the new information. His thoughts seemed to swirl around in his brain, far too fast for him to pin one down long enough to actually concentrate on it, and his pulse had yet to return to normal.

Ginny clutched his hand under the desk, and they sat in silence, whilst the rest of the class slowly came alive with muttering and whispering over what they had just witnessed.

The hopeful promise of the day had definitely disappeared. The ugly scene had made sure of that. Now, all he wanted to do was grab Ginny and run out of the room – take her outside to the lake or the woods or anywhere that wasn't that room, and bury his head in her hair, and make believe that somehow, despite everything, they would still get their happy ending. That there would be no revenge, no repercussions, no reality – just them.

But he didn't get a chance to even think about acting on these desires, as Bill walked into the room. His face was smiling and warm, and he strode in confidently, sweeping the room with his gaze.

His face dropped when he realized the atmosphere of the class, then grew stern.

He looked from Harry's desk to Harper's, then back again.

Harper was still standing there, a half wiped away smudge of red just visible beneath his nose, looking back at Bill.

Everyone froze.

Bill's stare settled on Ron, whose eyes were still closed, his expression one of desperately trying to retain control of his emotions.

"Everything okay, Harper?" Bill asked.

There wasn't a sound in the room, apart from the thumping of blood in Harry's brain.

"Fine," came the sullen reply.

Bill glanced over, looking him up and down appraisingly for a few seconds. Harry held his breath, waiting for him to ask what had happened, preparing himself for the consequences of the scuffle, whatever they may be.

"Then sit down. I'm ready to start."

Bill's voice gave no hint that he suspected anything, but his eyes said otherwise. He watched carefully as Harper obediently complied, before briefly returning his gaze to Ron.

Harry could tell that he knew that something was wrong, but for whatever reason, he was choosing not to say anything at that time. Either way, Harry was certain that it was not the end of the subject, and whatever Bill had to say, they would hear about it later on.

Bill cleared his throat. "Right then – let's get this class started!"


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17 – Consequences.

Harry watched as Bill surveyed the class from his perch on the desk, his face decidedly neutral despite the tense atmosphere of the room. How he managed that, Harry would never know.

From the moment Ron had hit Harper, it had felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room, and the appearance of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had done nothing to improve the ambience. It was as if the proverbial elephant was in the room with them, only this was far more dangerous and unpredictable. The incident had become the dragon in the room. No one dared acknowledge it. No one could step around it. It sat there, malignant, silent and ignored – but there, all the same.

The students sat stiffly, unsure of where to look or how to react after the recent violent outburst. Some looked guilty, others looked stunned. All of them, Harry noted, seemed to hold their breath, as he was doing, waiting to see what Bill was going to do.

Bill was familiar to almost everyone in the class. He was a legend in Hogwarts, particularly to the students of Gryffindor. He'd been a prefect, Head Boy and a fair Quidditch player during his time as a student, and had gone on to achieve twelve 'Outstandings' in his OWL's, before leaving to pursue a glamorous career in curse-breaking for Gringotts. He looked like he should've been a rock star, not a teacher – his scars adding a touch of rugged mystery to his face – his customary fang earring still in place. He was still undeniably good-looking.

And, of course, there were the tales of his bravery. Everyone had heard the tales of his actions during the war – the way he had fought during the Final Battle, how he'd rolled up his sleeves and waded into trouble without a second thought at the Quidditch World cup, and then there was the attack by Greyback…

When you combined it all with the impossibly romantic story of his love for Fleur (whose beauty they all remembered from the Triwizard Tournament), it all seemed a little unreal. Like having a childhood hero in the room with you.

Even Harry, who had known Bill for years, felt the thrill of expectation that he knew most of the class were experiencing in much greater intensity. And, despite his own notoriety and fame, he couldn't help feel a deep admiration for Bill and all he had done, like a little brother gazing wide-eyed up at an older sibling, full of pride and esteem.

But that was Bill, the brother. Bill, the friend. Bill, the legend.

What they were awaiting was Bill, the professor. An unknown quantity. And Harry couldn't help but feel just a little apprehensive about that.

"First of all, you can put your wands away and take out your textbooks. I'm assuming you've all got a copy?" Bill instructed.

"Professor," asked a small blond girl from the front desk, "Aren't we going to be using any magic in this lesson?"

Bill made a face. "Um, I think we can leave the 'Professor' bit out, don't you? At least whilst it's just us around. I mean, I'm pretty sure I already know most of you. Grace, your older sister was in my year at school… And I played Quidditch with your brother, didn't I, Neil? Bloody hell, I'm RELATED to half the class!"

There was a ripple of laughter, as some people leaned over to look at Ginny and Ron, and the tension in the room began to slowly seep away.

"So, unless there's a teacher about, or younger pupils, I think 'Bill' will be fine," he smiled.

"Okay… Bill. But, seriously? No magic?" Grace asked again.

"Er, not today, no. I thought we'd spend some time looking over the syllabus for the NEWT's and thinking about how we're going to be tackling it. After all, this is my first go at teaching anything and I want to make sure we're all starting on the same page."

With that, his face took on a slightly more grave expression, and he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

"I just wanted to say, before we begin, that I have every faith that you will pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts NEWT with flying colours. And not because I have supreme confidence in my ability as a teacher!" He gave a wry smile. "But because… I have fought alongside almost every one of you. I have been lucky enough to witness your bravery, and dedication, and your devotion to what's right…"

At this, Ron shot a withering look in the general direction of the three Slytherin boys.

"A lot has fallen on the shoulders of your generation in recent years. Some people would've shied away from that, and all that it entailed. But I look around me now, and I see young people who have consistently stepped up to the mark and faced those challenges head on, with courage and strength. And quite frankly, I'm proud of you. I'm proud of what you've accomplished and what you will go on to accomplish. You haven't just studied this topic – you've lived it. And I know that you're going to do wonderfully." His voice had fallen to just above a whisper as he'd spoke, and had an edge of melancholy to it.

When he looked up, Bill caught Harry's eye. His expression was one of such pride and respect, yet tainted with regret and sadness and pain. It hurt him to see, more than he would've imagined, but the moment of clarity of feeling was fleeting and in an instant, it was gone. Bill turned his attention away and flashed an easy smile at the class, and for a moment, Harry wondered if he had imagined it.

"So… Enough of all that sentimental rubbish for now!" he grinned, eyes glinting. "Grab your textbooks and turn to the module outline on page six."

And so, for the next hour or so, the class fell into the easy and comfortable routine that came with lessons, their minds occupied, even if their hearts were uneasy. Harry felt himself absorbed in the discussion of exams, test papers and practical assessments, allowing his mind to flit to the future they hinted at. And, even if he was unconscious of it, for a short period of time the delicate fabric of normality just within his grasp.

The class had been dismissed, and the students had swiftly packed away their parchment and books, but Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione had taken their time, allowing themselves to be the last left in the room.

"That was great, Bill!" Ron enthused. "Not what I expected, I've got to admit… I assumed you'd do something a bit different for the first lesson, and when you told us to put our wands away, I had flashbacks to old Umbridge's lessons! But I can see why you did it – we needed to see exactly what it is that's expected of us in the exams…"

When Bill didn't respond, Ron glanced around at the others nervously.

Harry waited. He knew that Bill would have plenty to say to them, but not about the curriculum.

Bill stood with his back to them, pulling rolls of parchment out of a desk drawer, and when he spoke to them, he did it without turning around, his expression hidden.

"Well, to tell you the truth, guys, it wasn't what I had planned for today, but I thought 'wands away' was probably the safest bet, going by the atmosphere in the room. And Harper's nose. Didn't want a full blown duel on my first day, did I?"

The group froze, and looked at each other. Harry felt his heartbeat pick up a little at this, anticipating a less than pleasant conversation.

"So… Do you want to tell me what the hell was going on in here before I walked in?"

Silence. No one seemed to want to begin. Harry's brain groped artlessly for an answer.

"Anyone?" He turned around, his eyes examining them all expectantly. "Because it was blatantly obvious that all was not well."

After a few seconds of uncomfortable stillness, it was Ron that began.

"It was that bloody Harper, wasn't it?!" he exclaimed. "He walked in here, all smug and unbearable and I couldn't help myself – I had to say something to him! Did you know he's trying to make out that he's completely innocent? Saying the Carrow's coerced him into doing all those things…" He grimaced at the thought. "Which might be even slightly believable if I hadn't met the knob and didn't know exactly what his views were on Muggle-Borns and Half Bloods! Then he had the nerve to make a comment about Fred, and that was it – I just saw red!"

The words tumbled out of his mouth so quickly that Harry had trouble trying to keep up with them.

"What did you do?" Bill asked, voice low.

Ron seemed to have trouble meeting his eye, as he mumbled, "I punched him."

"What?! Ron!" Bill cried, rubbing his forehead with his hand, visibly frustrated. "For Merlin's sake!"

"Well, you weren't there! If you'd heard him, you'd have done the same!" Ron defended, chin thrust out in a show of defiance. "You don't know this guy, Bill – you don't know what he's done."

Harry watched as Bill slumped into a chair, hissing a long breath out from between his teeth, obviously trying to cling onto his temper, and followed suit. Ginny clambered onto the desk next to him, and he felt a quiet clam radiating from her close nearness, seeping through his veins and permeating his breathing. For what felt the hundredth time in the last few days, he thanked whatever gods there were for her presence in his life, his hand unconsciously reaching for hers.

"As it happens, I'm more than aware of our friend Jonathon Harper. Between the Order and Kingsley, I'd go so far as to say that I know more about him than you do," Bill began. "His dad worked for Gringotts, one of the few wizards that the goblins trusted enough to employ on a permanent basis. The Ministry started investigating him on suspicion of embezzling funds belonging to Muggle-Borns and Half Bloods, passing some of it on to Death Eaters but keeping a hefty chunk of it for himself. But as soon as he got wind of the investigation, he disappeared, leaving his wife and kid to face the consequences. Understandably, finding him isn't at the top of the Ministry's to-do list, what with so many Death Eaters still being on the loose, but they did send a team of Aurors to speak to them both about their own part in the war. Particularly regarding Harper's actions at Hogwarts during the occupation."

Harry shuddered at the phrase. Occupation. Images of Neville in the Room of Requirement and Ginny, sobbing in his arms, flickered across his consciousness, and he fought to control his breathing once again. 'Occupation' seemed much too prosaic a word for what had happened in that year.

Bill continued. "Harper was adamant that anything he had done was a direct result of duress from the Carrows or the Imperius Curse. He appeared to be suitably regretful and vague about everything, and with no evidence to the contrary, the Aurors were unable to officially charge him."

Ron's mouth opened, ready to protest but Bill interrupted him. "I know. The Aurors didn't believe him, either. But without evidence there wasn't a lot they could do. They even looked at some of his memories, but they were too unclear to be used – as a result of either the Imperius or a deliberate attempt to change them. The best they could do was ask me to keep an eye on him whilst I was here and report anything that could be suspicious."

Nobody spoke for a minute as they pondered the unfairness of it all.

"So, you see, Ron, it's not that I'm unsympathetic. I'm as bloody frustrated as you are!" Bill muttered. "But you can't keep doing this. You heard what McGonagall said – reprisals will not be tolerated, and you are not the exception to the rule!"

Ron scoffed. "Well, she should have thought about that before letting Slytherin scum back into school, shouldn't she?"

Hermione's head snapped up. "What?"

"This could all have been avoided if they had refused entry to Slytherin students, that's all I'm saying."

Bill stood up quickly, his chair flying backwards. "Are you serious?! Because if you are, I don't think I know who I'm talking to any more! We didn't just fight this war to replace all those ideals with another set of bigoted principles! I thought you understood that!"

Harry watched in horror as Ron's face twisted, and then became buried in his hands. "I know! But I'm just so angry and frustrated by it all! I can't help thinking that it would've been so much easier, that way" He looked up imploringly at the others. "You know what I mean, don't you?"

Hermione shook her head, trying to take it all in, whilst Ginny stared at the floor. Neither of them seemed to know how to respond to what he was saying.

"You've been very quiet through all this, Harry," Bill said. "Where do you stand on it all?"

Harry sighed, trying to find the right words to begin.

"I don't know, Bill," he replied. "Part of me agrees with Ron. When Harper had a dig at Fred's death, I could have quite happily walked away and let Ron pummel him, to be honest. But I know that this isn't the right way to deal with it. It would be too easy to let our emotions get the better of us, but we have to be better than that. We have to be better than THEM."

He felt Ginny squeeze his hand encouragingly.

"We need to be examples to the rest of the school, and show them that no matter how much we've lost or how much we've suffered, we're not going to sink to that level. We won the war because right was on our side, and we can't let go of that now."

Even as he spoke, Harry was aware of the conflict raging inside him. The images of Neville and Ginny still whirled around his head, and were joined by the smirk on Harper's face when Ron confronted him, Sirius' eyes as he fell through the Veil, the sound of Molly Weasley's weeping at Fred's funeral. Even though he knew that what he was saying was right, every cell in his body seemed to scream in protest at it – throwing at him memories that threatened to break his heart and reduce him to tears on the spot.

But he couldn't give in to them, not even for a moment. He had to concentrate on the words that were coming out of his mouth; words that he knew were right and true.

"That's easier said than done, though, Harry!" Ron cried. "We weren't here last year! We didn't have to suffer idiots like that Harper abusing us and making our lives misery! He TORTURED people, Harry! Actually tortured them! And now he's walking around like nothing has happened!"

"I know," Harry muttered, trying to block out the images that Ron's words were producing.

"No, you don't know! You sit there, so glib and forgiving! You should talk to them – the people who were here! Listen to what they have to say and see if you can be so magnanimous then! Talk to Dennis! Talk to Neville! Hell, talk to your own bloody girlfriend!"

"I HAVE!" Harry exploded. "I HAVE talked to them! Christ, Ron! Do you think this is easy for me?!" His voice echoed around the deserted classroom. "I KNOW what went on here last year! I KNOW what they went through! I can't even talk about it without seeing Neville's bleeding face in my head, or remembering how Ginny trembles when she mentions it! Don't you DARE tell me I don't know! But we – are – better- than that! Do you understand? We are better than that!"

Silence again.

Harry lowered his voice and continued. "I understand your anger, Ron – really, I do. And maybe if he'd had a go at me, I'd have reacted in the same way. But we can't let that happen again. Ever. If for no other reason than this – we are putting Bill in a very difficult position."

Ron's face had coloured – whether from temper of embarrassment, Harry wasn't sure, but when he mentioned Bill, the colour drained away abruptly. "What do you mean, Bill's in a difficult position?"

Bill smiled sadly. "You punched a Slytherin and had a go at him, making it quite clear it was in revenge – in font of fifteen or so witnesses. I walked in and promptly ignored it. If Harper chooses to make an official complaint, not only would you be in trouble, but so would I. I could lose my job."

"What? How? You weren't even there!" Ron cried.

"But I was aware of it. And I did nothing. And what us being related, the fight stemming from a comment about our dead brother, my work with the Order, Harper's history… Surely you can see that it would not look good for me."

Ron looked aghast.

"Shit."

"Exactly."

"Bill, I'm so sorry. And you're right, I know you're right, both of you. It was stupid. Won't happen again. Sorry." With that, he heaved his bag over his shoulder and stalked out of the class.

Harry stood to go after him, but Hermione stopped him.

"No, I'll go, Harry. It's okay," she said over her shoulder as she followed him.

The tension in the room seemed to vibrate with the memory of what had been said, and made the stillness of the people within it even more obvious.

"You guys had better go," Bill murmured. "I need to prepare for the next class and I'm sure you have somewhere to be soon."

Harry nodded, and they slipped out into the corridor quietly.

They didn't speak for a while, until Ginny pulled him over to one side and looked at him, in that way she had that made him feel as if she was looking right into his soul.

Her eyes were full of concern and anxiety – a look that he had become far too accustomed to in recent months.

She reached up a hand, and gently trailed it from his temple to his jaw, before he caught it and held it to his lips, eyes closed.

If he could just stay like this, he thought, then maybe everything else would take the hint and disappear. Just leave them alone.

"Are you alright?" she asked finally.

He breathed deeply, without opening his eyes, and nodded. "Yeah. I just didn't think it would…"

"Be this hard?" she finished.

He opened his eyes reluctantly, and nodded.

"I know. Me neither."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 – Ghosts.

It was beginning to feel like a long day, Harry thought, as he and Ginny walked from the library to the Potions classroom.

The morning had been filled with confrontation, uncomfortable silences and tension, and he had not had anywhere near enough time to spend with Ginny before having to head to the library, for his liking. As much as he'd wanted to disappear outside with her and pretend to be carefree and irresponsible for a little while, he had this nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he should go and read over some of his old textbooks before his next lesson, so when Ginny suggested they head to the library, he had agreed, if somewhat reluctantly.

Potions had always been a bit of a strange subject for Harry. He hadn't been able to separate the subject from its circumstances.

To begin with, it had been marred by the presence of Snape, constantly belittling him and his work. Even now, knowing everything he did about Snape, his stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought of those lessons. Then during his last year of Potions, he had had the help of the Half Blood Prince's textbook, and whilst he had enjoyed the temporary thrill of being better than Hermione at something for once, it would forever be associated with the events that followed that year.

And, although he'd had plenty of practice with Defense Against the Dark Arts during his year away, and he was pretty sure he could knock up a vat of Polyjuice Potion without too much trouble, the thought of trying to keep up in Potions without the aid of the Half Blood Prince or a hefty dose of Hermione's assistance worried him a little.

Reading over old Potions instructions and lists of ingredients had comforted him a little – it had been like rereading old letters from friends, reminding him of a different life before everything really kicked off, and he couldn't help but think that he might actually enjoy his lessons this year, without the threat of dark wizards or war hanging over his head. But that thought led him to thinking about that morning's Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, and then his brain became all fogged and muddied again.

The effort of concentrating on it all had left him feeling pretty exhausted, and even though lunchtime was still frustratingly far away, he was already aching for the respite of bedtime.

They had started walking down to the class a little earlier than was strictly necessary, in order to try and avoid the inevitable crush in the corridors and all the unabashed staring that went with it.

"Hey, do you remember what you said to me at the Burrow when you realized that we'd be sharing some lessons?" Ginny asked with a grin.

"Not really – what was it?"

"You said you weren't looking forward to having another 'brainy girl' showing you up at every opportunity!" she giggled.

"Mmm, yeah – that sounds about right!" he remembered, smiling. "What made you think of that now?"

She gave a little smirk as she answered, "Well, I'm not daft enough to think that I could surpass you at Defense Against the Dark Arts, as you've had slightly more practice than I have!" Harry rolled his eyes at the understatement. "But this is Potions – and you, Potter, are about to get your arse handed to you!"

"Oh, really?" he teased. "You're a Potions expert, are you? I find that hard to believe – I've tasted your attempt at making a cup of tea! And there are only three ingredients to that! I can't say it bodes well for Potions!"

"You cheeky git!" she cried, giving him a playful nudge as they approached the door. They were both still laughing as they entered.

Professor Slughorn had his back to them as they walked into the empty classroom, not looking up as he chided, "Come in quietly, please! A little decorum, this is a class, not a – Good Merlin!"

He had looked up at the last moment, and on seeing Harry and Ginny, had frozen mid-sentence.

He blinked at them for a second, his expression one of complete shock. His mouth opened and closed several times before he finally took a breath and shook his head.

"Harry, Ginny, come in, sit down. Do forgive me…"

"What's the matter, Professor? You look as if you've seen a ghost," Ginny said, hoisting her bag onto the table.

Slughorn smiled sadly and looked away. "I did, my dear… I did."

Harry didn't need to ask – he knew exactly what his professor had meant, but nevertheless, the words made their way out of him of his own accord, begging for confirmation.

"It was my parents, wasn't it?"

Slughorn crossed the short distance between them and dragged his eyes back up to the couple.

"You know, standing this close to you, it's hard to believe I would make that mistake," he said in a soft, far-away voice. "You, Ginny, don't really look that much like her… Maybe it was the hair. Yes, it must be that. And as everyone insists on telling you, Harry, you have your mother's eyes – not James'. But for one moment, as you walked in, it was like going back in time and seeing James and Lilly walking through the same door… Silly, really."

Harry felt the familiar ache in his chest resurface, the one that always seemed to appear whenever he spoke to someone who knew his parents better than he had. It was a mixture of injustice, grief and longing – similar in some ways to the one he had endured over the summer, but lacking that smothering guilt that had made the latest one so utterly unbearable.

At the same time, it was also perversely pleasurable. It was proof that they had existed somewhere other than his own dreams and fantasies, and the ache was evidence that he hadn't forgotten them. That he still felt that love for them, even after all this time.

He smiled at Slughorn, trying to show that he didn't mind the comparison, even if he couldn't find the words to express it, and his face brightened in return.

"Of course, you also share Lily's talent for potions, Miss Weasley! It will be interesting to see what you are capable of this year!" He winked at her, before wandering back to the front of the room and the pile of bottles that sat on his desk.

Ginny flashed Harry a triumphant smile, her eyes laughing, Told you so! He couldn't help but chuckle in response.

"We'll see, Weasley…" he joked.

The room began to get busier, as student filed in and took their places at various desks and began the clatter that always comes with the emptying of bags and the locating of books and quills.

They almost didn't notice as Ron and Hermione slunk in next to them.

Ron looked decidedly sheepish, his eyes a little red around the edges, throwing the dark circles under them into relief. As he noted them, Harry wondered why it had taken him so long to notice them.

Ron addressed them both, sifting slightly from one foot to the other, like a little boy awaiting a telling off, never quite managing to meet the two pairs of eyes trained on him.

"Right… Er… I'm sorry, I behaved like a right prat," he stuttered quietly. When he failed to get a response from either of them, he made more of a conscious effort to look directly at them.

"I should've known better than that. I'm really ashamed of myself and what I said, and I wish I could take it back, but I can't. It was my temper talking, not me. I didn't mean any of it. I don't… I don't want to be like them."

Harry could feel what was left of his annoyance flittering away as he looked at his best friend. And he did understand. Really.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I am a stupid, irresponsible, rash, hot tempered idiot."

Ginny's mouth curled up in a half smile. "Of course you are." She gave his arm a reassuring rub. "We already knew that."

Ron looked at her gratefully, and turned his attention to Harry, who still hadn't said anything. "It won't happen again, Harry. I promise."

Ron's eyes searched his, and the regret and hurt in them were plain to see. The sincerity in his voice was clear. How could he not forgive him?

"I know it won't, mate."

Ron seemed to let out an enormous breath with that, and the creases in his forehead relaxed themselves. "I mean it. I let my emotions get in the way of everything we've worked towards, and for a minute, I became everything I've ever hated. I won't let you down like that again."

"I know."

Ron gave a small smile. "Thanks, Harry." Hermione, standing behind him, nodded in approval and mouthed her own silent thank you.

They quickly turned their attention to unpacking their bags, as if the action of concentrating on the mundane would help to glance over the unusual and disturbing start to the day, that it would all be forgotten that much more quickly. Of course, they all knew that it wouldn't be successful, but the illusion of it was important. Maybe if they all pretended with enough effort that everything was all right, it would go some way to making it so. Perhaps.

And so the next lesson began with a greater sense of peace than the last. But it was false peace. And they knew it.

Harry and Ginny leaned against a wall in a relatively empty corridor. His arm was securely around her waist, and her hand stroked the small patch of skin where his collar touched his neck. Their eyes were fixed on each other, oblivious to the disapproving looks that emanated from the portrait of an elderly lady in a rocking chair, hanging on the opposite wall.

They had been walking to Ginny's next class, one of the few that she did not share with Harry, their pace becoming slower and slower as they approached, trying to put off the moment they would have to go in separate directions, until they finally just stopped. Neither of them spoke immediately. Instead, they stood and held one another and tried to draw out the moment as long as they could.

"Do you think Ron's alright?" Ginny asked softly, her fingers still trailing along his neck, distracting him slightly.

He took his time answering. "I think he will be. If anyone's going to make him feel better, it's Hermione – he's really come to rely on her this summer. I think that may be part of what triggered this – he's been able to push reality out of his head whilst he's been with her and it suddenly caught him unawares in Bill's class, in the shape of Harper."

He frowned as memories of the morning invaded his mind, images of Ron's contorted face mixed in with Neville's bleeding one.

"I don't even think it's Harper he's angry with," he sighed, "or Slytherin, for that matter. I just think they're the closest thing he has to something to blame, and he hadn't prepared himself for coming face to face with them."

"Maybe the trials will help him. Maybe he'll feel better when he can see some justice for it all."

Harry winced. "Yeah, but is it justice he wants, or revenge?"

Ginny looked at him reproachfully. "Do you really need to ask?"

"No. I'm sorry. He obviously feels awful for what he did and said. It's just easy for the lines between justice and revenge to get blurred when you lose someone you love. I know."

Her fingers stopped and pulled his head a little closer to hers.

"Thinking about Sirius?"

"Among others," he smiled, sadly.

She nodded, and he pulled her closer still, until an indignant little cough from the portrait made them relax their hold, if ever so slightly.

"As much as I'm enjoying this, I have to go. Walk me to the class?" Ginny grinned.

They headed off somewhat reluctantly in the direction of the staircase.

They were almost at the turning for the staircase when Ginny stopped abruptly.

"Oh, Merlin…" She swayed dangerously on the spot before turning her back on whatever it was that had caught her eye.

"Ginny, what is it? Ginny! What's the matter?" Harry could feel panic rising up in his chest as he watched her face get paler and her eyes fill with tears.

She stumbled into his arms, hiding her face in his robes. "It's here," she mumbled, her voice muffled. "This is where Fred died."

His eyes dragged themselves up.

Before him stood an old suit of armor on a stone plinth, set in a small alcove.

Then it was as if the world around him disappeared, and another took its place. He could see, with terrifying vividness, the broken masonry and glass that had littered the ground that day, feel the choking dust that swirled in elegant eddies in the air. The sound of Percy's voice as he clung to Fred's body filled his ears, and the memory of Fred's weight as they lifted him into the recess, out of the way of any more falling stonework.

And then in a second, it was gone.

The memory had been a flash and an eternity all at once.

"I came here with Dad and Bill, to get him, afterwards… He was where the armor is now. They said you'd moved him…"

She tuned and faced the spot, once more, letting go of Harry, who stood, still dazed.

She took a step forward, tentatively.

"They said you tried to keep him from any more harm. That you were as devastated as Ron and Percy."

He nodded, without her seeing it.

"It looks the same as it always did." She turned to face him. "How can that be?"

He swallowed hard. "They repaired everything to make it look like the battle hadn't happened."

"But why?" she said, plaintively. "It did happen. How can they pretend it didn't? It's not like some spilled ink on a tapestry, to be cleared up by Filch and ignored! There was a battle here! People got hurt, people died! This whole school was ripped apart, for Merlin's sake, and they've rebuilt it as if it never happened! There was a hole in THAT wall, and THAT window had shattered and MY brother died HERE!" She punctuated her words with violent jabs of her finger, her voice rising. "Why does it look the same? Nothing is the same, nothing! So why should this be?!"

He watched as the tears trembled on her lids but stubbornly refused to fall, even as she shook her head in disbelief.

"I can't bear to see it," she cried, as she turned and marched away. Harry had to run to catch up with her. She flew down the staircase and rounded the corner and only stopped when Harry caught her hand in his.

She looked up at him, wordlessly. The tears had gone – whether they had finally fallen from her eyes or had been wiped away, he couldn't tell, but her face showed every ounce of the pain he had seen on the corridor. She rested her head against him and sagged as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm sorry, Ginny – I shouldn't have brought you that way, I wasn't thinking…" he apologized. "I didn't think you knew where it happened, and I didn't even realize where we were until you stopped – "

She shook her head. "No, Harry, it's not your fault. I just wasn't expecting it. I didn't think it would look … so… bloody normal!" She tilted her face up to see his. "For my family, the world ended there in that exact spot. But there's no sign of it. No sign that my wonderful, crazy, hilarious brother died right there in that cold, boring corridor. And it doesn't seem right."

"It's not right," he agreed.

Suddenly, her face cleared. Like clouds being blown out of the way of the sun.

"It's not right," she repeated, slowly.

He watched as her eyes moved back and forth in concentration, and a flush of pink began to spread over her cheeks.

"But I know a way we can make it right!" She looked at him mischievously, her eyes glinting, the resemblance to the twins stronger than ever. "Harry, I don't suppose you becoming Head Boy has suddenly given you some strange new aversion to bending the rules, has it?"

He shook his head, puzzled.

"Good, because I have a plan. I want to do something Fred would be proud of – something George would have done, if he was here. And I'm going to need your help."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19 – Pranks.

Harry sat, shivering a little, in the deserted common room as the clock struck two, its numbers barely visibly in the dim light from his wand.

It was colder at this time of the morning. The fire had long since gone out, the last of the Gryffindor students having gone to bed hours earlier, and the absence of light had added to the chill atmosphere and the eerie emptiness of the room.

He waited, quietly.

In between the shivers, he could feel the thrill of expectation and anticipation shooting down his spine, and he filled the moments of waiting by trying to work out whether the sensations were down to his intentions to break school rules yet again or the promise of being utterly alone with Ginny.

He had just about come to the conclusion that he wouldn't be able to come to a conclusion when he heard light footsteps approaching and the sound of the door opening.

Ginny peeked around the corner of the doorframe, and flashed Harry a relieved smile when she saw him on the sofa.

"Bloody hell, it's freezing down here!" she whispered, chafing her arms as she walked over to join him.

She was wearing a pair of worn pajama bottoms that he had seen many times over the course of the summer, and a faded Harpies t-shirt, which looked as if it had fitted perfectly two or three years ago. It rode up as she moved, revealing a tantalizing strip of skin around her waist, but was quickly hidden again as she yanked it down in an attempt to keep warm.

She sat on the edge of the sofa next to him, her bare arm touching his for a fraction of a second, making Harry feel inexplicably warm and shivery all at once.

"Did you bring it?" Her voice was full of quiet excitement, and he couldn't help but return her grin as he held up the Invisibility Cloak.

"Brilliant. You ready to go?"

The smile slipped from his lips briefly. "Gin, are you sure this is a good idea?" Even in the poor light, he could see her rolling her eyes at him. "McGonagall is not going to be amused if we get caught…"

"Don't you get all good-two-shoes on me now, Potter! I need your help to pull this off!" she told him sternly.

"Okay, okay! Just checking!" he whispered, hands raised in surrender. "You'll need to go in front – I'll be able to see over your head when we're walking, and you'll be in charge of lighting."

She pulled out her wand from her hair, where it had been holding it twisted in some kind of elaborate knot. As she did, it fell in a luxurious curtain around her shoulders with a soft swishing noise, sending a breath of freesia-scented air towards him.

For a moment, Harry forgot all about where they were and what they were meant to be doing, and stood in dumbfounded awe of her.

"Are you ready, then?"

He blinked once or twice in an attempt to stop staring, and nodded.

She moved to stand in front of him, her wand extended in front of her, acting as a torch, as he swung the cloak around them.

"Er, you may want to stand a little closer than that, most of your arm is sticking out…" he mumbled, and she took a small step backwards until she was almost touching him… but not quite.

Ginny stepped backwards slightly, until her back was almost pressed up against him. Almost, but not quite.

The space between them seemed alive, the heat of it filling him.

The hairs on his arms stood up, and not because of the temperature. His breathing came to him in stuttering draws, filling him with the smell of her.

He tries to justify these reactions in his mind.

Maybe it was the by-product of all the tension of the last few days, weeks, months…

Maybe it was down to the excitement and adrenaline of what they were about to do.

Maybe it was because they were finally alone, without friends or teachers or timetables or the never-ending list of things that always seemed to interrupt them.

But whatever the reason, his body was most certainly very aware of it's proximity to hers.

As they began to walk towards the door, Harry worried that this new found hyper-awareness of his own body and the one so close to it would make him clumsy and fumble.

But somehow, they seemed to move in perfect synchronization, his steps in identical time with hers, like a well practiced dance. The space between them stretched and closed, but never disappeared, as they made their way through the corridors and negotiated door and corners by the light of the Lumos charm.

Harry almost began to relax as they got closer to their destination. The halls had been empty, peacefully quiet with nothing but the sound of soft snores from the occasional portrait and their own footsteps to break the silence.

The suddenly, Ginny stopped. Without warning and without slowing down.

The carefully crafted space between them came to an abrupt halt as Harry collided into her back, instinctively putting his hands on her hips to steady himself. She had just enough time to extinguish her wand before a familiar, bedraggled looking cat sauntered past, right in front of them. If Ginny hadn't stopped when she had, they'd have stepped right on the creature.

Neither of them breathed as it paused and turned its head towards them, sensing their presence, if not seeing it. For several long seconds, that cat looked at the space where they were, eyes narrowed, before turning and padding away and disappearing out of view.

Harry finally exhaled, a slow smile creeping across his face at the close call.

"Mrs. Norris," Ginny breathed. "That bloody cat! She was the bane of my life last year…I can't tell you how many well-planned pranks were almost ruined because of her!"

They chuckled quietly at the power wielded by one disheveled cat, a mixture of relief and adrenaline coursing through them.

It was at that moment Harry realized that his hands were still securely around her waist, touching the bare skin that had been revealed as her t-shirt managed to work its way upwards again, and his hands suddenly became very warm.

He considered leaving them there, for all of a heartbeat, before he silently and gently withdrew them, allowing his fingers to trail over her form a little slower than he had intended.

He cleared his throat nervously, and Ginny wriggled the top downwards again a little uncomfortably. But the floodgates had been opened. There careful non-contact had been broken, and as they moved off along the corridor, Harry could feel the brush of fabric against fabric as they brushed against each other, no longer determined to maintain the electrified space.

"So, what inspired this wonderful plan, then?" he asked, trying to distract himself from some of the tingling running through him.

She giggled to begin with, before answering, "Well, at first, I was thinking of something spectacular, like the fireworks or the swamp, but apart from not being very original, they wouldn't last…"

"What do you mean, they wouldn't last?"

"They'd be too noticeable. One of the teachers would get rid of it before it had a chance to make its mark, which kind of defeats the point of a memorial. So I settled for something cheeky, yet subtle. Something that stands a chance of still being around in a few years time. Watch out, there's a lose slab here… It took me the whole of Ancient Runes to come up with something fitting! I knew I'd need your help, regardless of what I chose, as I needed to borrow the cloak, but as it happens, I need your wand skills, too."

"I hope it's nothing too complicated! You'd have been better off asking Hermione, otherwise!"

"Oh, yes! Because I'm sure she'd have thoroughly approved of this!" she scoffed, chuckling. "No, it's nothing you haven't done before, don't worry. You'll see when we get there."

They walked the rest of the distance in silence, each thinking about the task that lay ahead.

When they arrived at the suit of armor, they were greeted by the same ordinariness that there had been earlier, and now that he was expecting it, the lack of physical scars from the battle seemed completely out of place with what he knew to have happened there.

It seemed almost… sterile.

It was TOO repaired. TOO normal.

No wonder Ginny had reacted the way she did, he thought.

"Okay, your part first," she whispered, gesturing towards the plinth.

She gave a brief explanation of what she wanted, and Harry immediately set about his task, concentrating hard. Carefully, and as neatly as he possibly could, he used his wand to engrave the three W's that made up Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in the bottom right hand corner of the stone pedestal that held the aging armor – small enough to be overlooked, but large enough to be visible to any who looked for it. As Ginny had said, something that stood a chance of lasting the test of time.

As he worked, he fought back memories of burying Dobby and the inscription he had carved for him, choosing to focus on what he imagined would be McGonagall's face when she heard about this newest memorial. It brought a small grin to his face and a little swell to his heart. This was, without a doubt, one of the best rule-breaking moments he had ever taken part in, and he inwardly applauded Ginny's idea yet again.

He barely noticed, in his concentration, how she stood over him, muttering incantations at the area he was working on. It was only once he had finished that he realized what she had been doing. The letters began to change colour, almost imperceptibly, from gold, to red, then back again, emitting the softest glow. In the daylight, it would go unnoticed, but there in the darkness, it was defiantly visible.

They stepped back and watched, admiring their handiwork.

"That's the easy part done," Ginny said, before approaching the armor again. She uttered another stream of unfamiliar words.

"Blimey, where did you learn all this stuff, Ginny? I don't think I noticed any of these spells on any of the class module outlines!" he asked, half joking, half incredulous.

"Now, you didn't think the twins were the only ones to experiment at home, did you?" She flashed him a quick smile. "We often used to work together on different ideas in the holidays. This particular one drove Mum mad for about three weeks before she worked out where it was coming from! Nearly finished…"

As she stepped back, Harry waited for the explosion, or lights, or stench, or whatever it was he was half expecting to happen as a result of this new spell, flinching slightly.

But nothing happened.

He looked expectantly at her.

"Nothing happened. Did it work?" he asked.

"I don't know. We need to test it. Walk past it normally and see what happens."

He looked at her strangely, but did as he was asked. Tentatively, he walked across the path of the armor. As he crossed it, a large, loud and highly irreverent 'raspberry' sound echoed through the hall.

"Er, that wasn't me…" he blushed, colour rising swiftly to his face.

Ginny dissolved into a flood or giggles. "Do it again! Walk past again!"

Still confused, Harry walked past in the opposite direction, and again, the loud raspberry noise squelched through the air.

All of a sudden, he understood. That was the prank!

"That… That's what the spell does?!" he laughed. "Ginny, that's genius!"

"Isn't it?" she gasped, wiping the face. ""No one will realize where's it's coming from for ages, and when they do, they certainly won't want to approach a teacher with the idea of a farting suit of armor! It'll drive everyone crazy for months!"

"It's… so Fred and George!" he nodded. "Well done." He smiled at her, and she beamed back, not bothering to hide the glistening in her eyes.

"I think he'd have approved, don't you?" she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

"Definitely."

"Harry… thank you. I know you didn't have to do this for me. You could have gotten into a lot of trouble, especially with being Head Boy and everything, and I know you were a little hesitant…"

He walked towards her as she spoke, another rasping fart reverberating down the corridor as he moved, making him chuckle again, and put his hands on her shoulder, silencing her.

"Will you shush? I was glad to do it. Really. I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

His hand worked its way to the nape of her neck, entirely of its own accord.

"Really?" she breathed.

"Really. And not just for you. For Fred."

"Then I should say thank you for both of us…" she murmured, gently pressing her lips to his.

For the several, blissful moments that followed, Filch could have walked past naked, for all Harry cared.

All he was aware of was the taste of her tongue against his, and the curve of her under his arm as he kissed her there in that corridor – the scene of so many terrible things…

They kissed as if the display of tenderness and affection could undo all the damage that had been done by hate. They kissed as if there was nothing in the world but them. And when Ginny finally drew back, cheeks flushed and smiling, Harry couldn't help but feel a flood of disappointed longing as the rest of the world flowed back into his consciousness.

"We should be getting back, before that cat reappears…" she whispered. "I meant it, though, Harry. Thank you."

He nodded, not convinced his voice would be steady enough to answer, drawing the cloak around them securely once more. He noticed as she threw the recess and armor one last sad smile, before turning away, and leading them back along the corridor by the light of her wand.

It wasn't long before they arrived back at the common room, and immediately Ginny threw herself onto the sofa. She tucked her wand back into her hair before grabbing an old blanket that had been draped over the back of the seat and throwing it around her shoulders. She held one side of it up, invitingly, and motioned for Harry to join her.

He sat beside her, as she drew her feet up underneath her and pulled the blanket tightly around them.

"Shouldn't you be going to bed?" he asked gently, whilst negating the comment completely by sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him.

"In a bit," she said sleepily. "I… I don't fancy being on my own, just yet." She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. "I think I just said goodbye to my brother properly, the best way I could – better than any stuffy funeral or service ever could. And if I go to bed on my own now, I'll only start thinking about it and get upset. I'd much rather sit with you. If that's okay?"

"Of course it is," he said, finally realizing the real reason she'd asked him to go with her.

He should've known.

Ginny could have quite easily borrowed the Invisibility Cloak and performed the charms on her own, and having seen first hand her fierce sense of independence, he had been a little surprised that she'd asked for his help.

But now he realized why she'd needed him with her. She'd needed his support, and it had probably taken quite a lot for her to admit that. He admired her a little bit more for that.

He closed his other arm around her, and dipped his head to kiss her hair. She reacted by snuggling even closer into him, a tiny, breathy sigh escaping her and she snaked her arm around his own waist.

All the adrenaline-fuelled tingling that he had experienced earlier in the night that had slowly ebbed away slammed back into him at the sound of that soft little noise, along with the need to hold her as close as humanly possible. The hand that held her waist began to stroke the sliver of soft skin exposed by the old, ill-fitting t-shirt, gently and rhythmically, and extremely tentatively.

His heart thumped at the new, deliberate contact, and he listened as the rhythm of her breathing spiked at first, before gradually settling and eventually slowing into the unmistakably heaviness of sleep.

It was an hour later before she awoke again, and another twenty minutes before they finally gave in to the cold, and said goodnight.

When Harry finally climbed into his bed in the silent dorm, his last thought before drifting back into sleep was how well she had fitted into his embrace, and how empty his arms felt without her.

When he awoke the next morning, the sun had begun to filter its way through the curtains, and Harry was aware that it was still quite early. Memories from the night before trickled back to him, including falling asleep with Ginny in his arms, and he turned over, sleepy and content, telling himself that he's get up in another ten minutes.

He barely had time to close his eyes again before the door swung open with a bang, and Ron's face appeared around the edge of the frame.

"Good – you're awake," he called.

"Ron, mate – seriously. You've got to stop doing this – that's the second time this week you've come bursting in here at a ridiculous hour, asking me if I'm awake!" he complained blearily. "What's the matter? What are you doing up at this time?"

Ron walked in, his expression tight. "It's McGonagall. She's down in the common room. She asked me to come up and get you. There's been an… incident."

Harry was immediately awake, springing up with a speed and alertness that he hadn't displayed since before the Battle, since those long days and nights in the woods. He felt his stomach knot at Ron's words and the hairs on the back of his neck standup, his jaw tensing and his mouth dry. It was a sensation he remembered well and had hoped to never experience again. It was a deep dread, mixed with blind, abject fear.

"What do you mean? What kind of 'incident'? Is everyone okay?" The words came out in a rush as he hurried to pull on his trousers and school shirt. His hands had begun to tremble slightly, and his heart beat out a staccato rhythm.

"I don't know, she wouldn't say. But she asked for you and Hermione to come down straight away. Whatever it is, Harry, it doesn't look good."

He sped downstairs to find several Gryffindors already standing around the common room, looking rather similar to the way he felt at that moment. His body relaxed ever so slightly when he saw Hermione's calm, business-like face next to McGonagall's, giving the impression, as always, that everything was under control, and the tautness of his neck eased even further when he saw Ginny a few feet away from them, wrapped in her dressing gown – concerned and anxious, but safe.

"Potter, there you are! I need you and Miss Granger to come with me at once," the headmistress said, voice clipped. Seeing Harry, face panicked and hand hovering over his wand in his pocket, her voice softened a little. "There's no danger, Harry. But you do need to see this."

She swept out of the portrait hole, leaving the Head Boy and Girl to follow in her wake.

As they walked, Harry ran through as many different scenarios in his head as he could, but he couldn't imagine what could have happened to trouble the Headmistress in this way – at least, not without there being danger to the school, which she had assured him there was not.

She was adamantly silent as they moved through the corridors and down staircases, her eyes focused forward. Hermione glanced at him intermittently, but like their professor, said nothing. He briefly thought about the prank from the night before, but dismissed it as the cause of such concern. Besides, they were heading down towards the dungeons – entirely the wrong direction for that.

Then, he realized the where they were headed.

"Professor, this is the way to the Slytherin common room, isn't it?"

Both women looked at him in surprise.

"I'm not sure why you know that, Potter, or if I want to know why! But yes. Yes, it is." Her frown deepened as she spoke, but she did not break her stride.

As they approached their destination, Harry could see the pale green light he remembered from his second year trip to the room. For a very unpleasant second, his mind flickered back to a memory from many years ago – a flash of green light, a scream… And as quickly as it had arrived, the memory left, leaving him feeling even more anxious than before.

He tried to keep his mind in the present, and on the task at hand, noticing that the entrance to the room was open, and no noise came from inside, which set him on edge straight away.

McGonagall walked straight in, without bothering to use a password, and before turning around to face them, her face grave. "Do you now understand why I wanted you to see this for yourselves?"

Harry looked past her and beyond the high backed chairs and carved mantelpiece, and the sight that greeted him made him turn cold.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20 – Suspicion.

It was one of those moments when your eyes see what is directly in front of you, but your brain takes several long seconds to catch up and process the information, Harry would think afterwards.

One of those moments where there seems to be a delay between vision and the thought process.

Because when Harry saw the blood, his brain didn't immediately spring into action the way it would have done during the Horcrux hunt. He didn't have the same instinctive urge to leap into action as he did when Ron woke him earlier that morning. He didn't have any instincts at all, really.

All he was aware of was the slow-spreading cold throughout his body. A cold that spread from his brain to his chest and finally to his limbs.

The warmth of the summer was leaving him, along with the sense of security he had been working so hard to create and maintain.

But he didn't think about that as he looked at the blood spattered walls. He didn't think at all. He just looked.

Some of the room's chairs were lying on their sides, having been thrown roughly out of the way, and whatever had been on top of the long table in the centre of the room had been strewn haphazardly, as it too had been overturned.

There wasn't all that much blood on the floor, in comparison to the rest of the room. There were puddles where it had pooled, having run down the walls in rivulets and some footprints from where people had walked through it, but most of the flagstones and rugs were clean. Harry took a tentative step back when he realized that one of the puddles was inching its way towards his foot.

The walls were almost solidly red in some places, but nearly every square foot had some blood spattered over it. It congealed in some places and dribbled in others. In some areas, the force of it hitting the smooth surfaces had created a grisly starburst effect.

Some patches were still shockingly scarlet; others had begun to dry to a dark rust colour.

The overall effect was nauseating.

The piece de resistance was the message scrawled in crimson capitals over the fireplace, the final exclamation mark dripping steadily onto the mantelpiece, the only sound in the room.

"BLOOD ON THE WALLS, TO MATCH THE BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS!"

"Oh, my God." Hermione was the first to speak, voice tremulous. "Professor, who discovered this?"

"A first year, almost an hour ago. He reported it to Professor Slughorn, who sent for me immediately after. We have evacuated the rest of the house to the main hall for now - the boy in question was rather shaken by it all and it seemed wise to spare the others this sight, so we put up a temporary illusion until they had all left. Although, I daresay a full description of it is circulating Slytherin as we speak," McGonagall said gravely.

They regarded the sight for another moment or two before she continued.

"We attempted to find magical signatures from anyone who shouldn't have been here, but our results indicated that the only magic to be used in the room in the last twenty four hours was conducted by Slytherin students, or more recently, myself."

Hermione's face blanched.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked, wondering what he had missed that had made Hermione look so ill.

"Well, the first option is that this was the work of one of the Slytherins, which seems highly unlikely." Harry nodded in agreement. "The other, is that whoever did this did it without magic. That this was done by hand."

He gave a little shiver at the thought.

"Professor, it's blood, isn't it?" Hermione asked, although Harry was sure she already knew the answer.

The headmistress nodded, and Harry's stomach churned.

"It's dragon blood, isn't it?" Harry, too, already knew the answer to this.

Her face became an immovable mask as she examined him, and he felt his skin prickle under her scrutiny.

"Yes," she answered tightly. "Professor Slughorn has assured me that it's dragon blood. How did you know that, Harry?"

He flinched a little. "Er, it's sort of a long story…"

McGonagall was not to be put off. "I'm afraid I have to insist you explain."

"Headmistress! Surely you're not insinuating… I mean, you can't honestly suspect...!" Hermione could barely finish a sentence as her disbelief grew.

McGonagall turned her cool stare to the spluttering Head Girl. "Miss Granger, I MUST ask. Harry immediately recognized the way to the Slytherin common room –"

"Of course he did! He's the Head Boy!" she cried shrilly.

"Who, as yet, has not had his turn to patrol the corridors, so I hardly think that explains things! He was able to identify the dragon blood straight away, and I think we can all agree that he has reason to be less than pleased with Slytherin…"

Harry raised an eyebrow at that.

"I take it Miss Weasley has informed you of events last year?"

Heat filled his face and the sharp anger and injustice of Ginny's conversations with him quickly returned with the Headmistress' comment.

"I thought as much. And whilst I do not for one second believe that Harry is responsible," she paused to shoot a frosty glance in Hermione's direction, "I am thoroughly expecting someone else to suggest that he is, and I should like to be able to offer a reasonable explanation for his knowledge and his whereabouts, should that case arise."

Hermione thrust her chin out defiantly, but managed to look embarrassed at the same time. Harry couldn't help but feel a wave of brotherly affection for her and for her loyalty, defending him without even a moment's thought.

He couldn't decide if he was more surprised by the tone she'd used with the Headmistress, or impressed that she's had the bravery to use it at all!

"Professor, I CAN actually explain, believe it or not…" he said, jumping in to prevent Hermione from digging herself into a deeper hole. "Ron and I were able to sneak in to the Slytherin common room back in our second year, when we were trying to find out how the Chamber of Secrets got opened…" A fleeting image of an eleven year old Ginny laying unconscious on the cold ground flashed through his mind.

The professor looked shocked, with the merest hint of being impressed. "How on earth did you manage that?"

"We were…" Harry's brain groped for an explanation that wouldn't land Hermione in trouble for brewing Polyjuice Potion. "…disguised."

"I'm sure that was an impressive disguise, and even surer that there's more to that story than you're letting on! Didn't Miss Granger join you in this little escapade? I was under the impression that the three of you came as a set! But she did not seem to know where we were going this morning."

"She was somewhat incapacitated at the time…" Harry tried to skirt around the details as much as possible.

Recognizing that she was going to glean little more information about the story, McGonagall moved onto the next item on her list. "And how did you know that the blood was dragon blood? It could have been many other substances…"

"Actually, that was because of Professor Slughorn. When Dumbledore took me to help persuade him to come back to teach, he didn't recognize us at first. He made the house look like it had been raided by Death Eaters to try and put us off, completely trashing the place. He used dragon blood to make it look as if something terrible had happened and afterwards, he explained how he did it. That's how I knew. I recognized it."

The headmistress looked slightly placated, and nodded. "And finally, Harry – and I do hate having to ask you this… Where were you last night?"

"In his dorm, of course!" Hermione sighed, exasperated.

"Um… not quite." Harry felt the colour returning to his cheeks. "I… was with Ginny Weasley."

Both women looked at him, eyebrows raised, and he felt his cheeks burn.

"Really?" McGonagall's tone indicated she was less than impressed with his response.

"We went to the place where Fred was killed," he said quietly. "She needed to say goodbye to him in her own way."

Hermione's face softened.

"In fact, if you go there now, you'll be able to see for yourself that I'm telling the truth."

"Again, I don't think I'm going to want you to elaborate on that… At least, not just now," she said, lips pursed but eyes glinting.

"So can we safely assume that Harry is in the clear?" Hermione's voice was impatient.

"Yes, I think so. Ginny, too."

"Ginny?!"

"She was one of the names mentioned when we asked who could have been responsible for this."

"By who?!" Harry felt even more outraged at the idea that Ginny had been suspected than he had been when he realized that he was under suspicion himself.

"A member of Slytherin. Who, exactly, is not important. It does bear quite a resemblance to two other messages we already know she was responsible for-"

"Written under two completely different circumstances!" Harry choked out through gritted teeth.

"Granted. But surely you can see that after the loss of her brother in the war, her relationship with you and her own experiences of last year, it is not a stretch to imagine that she could feel some desire for revenge or-"

"No!" he interrupted. "No – definitely not. You only have to speak with her to realize that all she wants is to forget her own experiences," his voice faltered slightly at the mention of what she had been through, "mourn her brother, and move on. She would never have done something like this!"

Hermione nodded in resolute agreement.

"Well, as true as that may be, there is no question of her involvement now, as Harry has vouch for her whereabouts. Although I'm sure some would consider that rather convenient, given your relationship."

"Convenient?!" he scoffed. "Considering we're both innocent, I think it's a bit inconvenient, actually."

She actually smiled at this. "I certainly believe you. And if, as you say, there is some evidence of your late night stroll, then I can't see how anyone would dispute it."

He relaxed ever so slightly. "There were other names mentioned, Professor?" Harry asked.

She looked very uncomfortable, once again. "Yes, and you are going to like it just as little. It was… Ron Weasley's name."

"WHAT?!" Hermione looked appalled.

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Harry could feel his temper begin to get the better of him as the conversation went on, his pulse picking up speed, the muscles along his shoulders becoming tighter. "I bet I can guess who suggested his name in all of this…"

Harper.

"I've been told that Ron was involved in an altercation during one of his lessons with a member of Slytherin and expressed some rather concerning sentiments regarding their admission to the school. Am I right in thinking he assaulted him?"

Hermione looked as if she was on the verge of explosion. "He was provoked! The cretin in question made some delightful comments about Fred's death, trying to get a rise out of Ron – of course he reacted! Anyone would have done the same in his position!"

"Miss Granger, I will remind you to keep a civil tone when addressing me! But yes, precisely, Ron has been through a lot." McGonagall's voice was infuriatingly calm given the circumstances, and Harry could feel Hermione's frustration venting from her in waves. "And he is showing signs that he is finding it hard to deal with. His outburst is proof of that."

"But you didn't see how sorry he was, afterwards! He was disgusted with himself! It doesn't make sense that he would go and do something like this straight after!" Hermione was obviously trying to stay calm but he could see her shaking as she spoke.

"But this wouldn't be the first time Ron has acted rashly and regretted it in hindsight, would it?" the Headmistress countered. "Last year, for example, when he spent some time at Shell Cottage without you two. Am I right in thinking he abandoned you after an argument? Left you to your quest alone? I'm sure he was ashamed of his cowardice afterwards, of course…"

The silence that followed was almost painful. Harry waited for Hermione's explosion as her face expressed hurt, anger and outrage in quick succession. She drew herself up to her full height and turned to face the other woman.

"That - was - not - how - it - happened!" she managed to say, jaw clenched. "He did NOT abandon us! It was Riddle! Riddle got inside his mind and made him leave!" Her voice was filled with a cold venom. "How dare you accuse him of being a coward?! He risked everything last year, including his family, to do what was right! He risked his life to save our world! And he lost his brother as a result! And I will not stand for anyone- ANYONE – calling him a coward! Is that clear?!"

Harry had only ever seen Hermione really lose her temper once before - when Ron had come back to find them last year - and that had been a rather scary thing to witness. He had vowed then and there to try and never be on the receiving end of that wrath! But watching her square up to their indomitable headmistress, full of icy rage and indignation, he felt incredibly proud of her.

McGonagall did not flinch away from her stony gaze, but met it with the same determined calm. "Forgive me – I did not mean to cause offence. I meant only to demonstrate that it is easy to let our emotions carry us away, when we are angry or hurt, and lead us to say or do things that we wouldn't normally, even make us act out of character. As you just illustrated perfectly, Miss Granger. All it takes is the correct trigger. Yes?"

This time, Hermione looked decidedly embarrassed. "Excuse me?"

"Your trigger was your affection for Ron. It led you to speak to me in a way you never have dreamed of speaking to a teacher in the past."

Hermione blushed a deep scarlet and swallowed hard.

"Is it not possible that Ron's trigger was the comment about the death of his poor brother?" she asked gently. "Are you still so certain that Ron could not have done this?"

Hermione frowned and nodded adamantly. "Completely certain."

Harry saw his chance to speak. "Professor, I had to learn the hard way that no one is entirely good nor entirely bad. None of us are perfect. We all make mistakes and sometimes we do things we deeply regret and wish we could take back. Yeah, Ron made a big mistake when he punched Harper. He let his emotions get the better of him for a split second and he said some things in the heat of the moment that made him feel utterly disgusted with himself afterwards. But this is not the work of someone who has lost control for a minute or two." He gestured at the walls. "This was planned. Someone went to the trouble of getting their hands on a great deal of dragon blood, then bided their time for an opportunity to get in here, and even did it by hand to ensure their magical signature wouldn't give them away. This was a premeditated attempt at revenge."

As he spoke, he felt himself become even more convinced that Ron could not have been responsible.

"Now, I know Ron – as well as I know myself. He saved my life, and risked his own more times than I can count. He gave up absolutely everything to help me last year. He's one of the best people I know. And this," he pointed at the message, "this is not him."

McGonagall nodded without speaking, staring at the blood spattered walls, and sighed. "I understand what you're saying. Both of you." She looked at them, openly. "And I respect it. But answer me this, can either of you vouch for his whereabouts last night?"

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other hopelessly, but didn't answer.

"That's what I thought."

Harry could feel his heart sinking in his chest as he realized that he could do nothing more to try and save Ron from the accusations he felt certain were coming. But he took comfort in the expression on McGonagall's face – she seemed as unhappy as he was with the whole situation.

"Miss Granger, would you go and ask Ron to meet me in my office? The sooner he has the chance to put forth his side of the story, the sooner we can clear up this whole sorry mess."

Hermione nodded brusquely and quickly swept out of the room.

"I do believe you, Harry. You know that, don't you?"

He glanced at the older woman and shrugged. "I know this probably isn't a nice situation for you, either, Professor."

"Believe me, it's not! I happen to be very fond of the Weasley family. And in that, I include you and Hermione. It upsets me to have to go through all of this, trusting you the way I do, knowing that I'll be dragged over the coals for it if I don't. I have to be seen to be completely impartial, Harry. I'm sure you understand that."

The irony of it was not lost on him. "Ha! Actually, if it was any other situation, I would be incredibly grateful for that fact!"

She put her hand on his shoulder, and he smiled faintly as he noticed that she had to reach up to do so. "This was always going to be a very difficult year. But it WILL get better."

He nodded, trying his best to look like he believed her.

"Alright, off you go. Remember – this is not to be spoken of amongst students until I have made an official statement, and even then, I will be counting on you to help keep gossip to a minimum." She drew her hand back, and her voice became business-like once more.

Just as he got to the door, she called, "Oh, and would you mind passing this on to Miss Weasley?" She held out her hand. "I had been expecting her to come and see me but I have since gathered she's been rather busy." One side of her mouth twitched in humor. "I was planning on trying to catch her today but it seems there won't be time."

She dropped something red and shiny into his hand, and then nodded a dismissal.

He didn't look at it until he was in the corridor, but he had already guessed what it was. He uncurled his fingers to see the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain badge nestled in his palm.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21 – Rumours.

Harry had spent almost an hour relating to Ginny in whispered snatches what had gone on in the Slytherin common room. The lesson droned on around them and there were moments when they knew they had to do their best to appear dedicated, hard working students, but whenever they thought they could get away with it, they were deep in muted conversation.

Hermione and Ron, by contrast, were silent.

They sat very close to one another, with their eyes trained on the page of the textbook they were meant to be engrossed in, but neither one of them was concentrating. There was only the occasional glance and squeeze of the hand that gave away the fact that they were miles away from the classroom.

"Oh, Merlin – look at him, he looks absolutely devastated," Ginny murmured, her quill busy in order to distract attention from her whispering.

"Of course he is," Harry whispered back. "He's just been accused of being everything he's scared he might be – everything he's scared other people think he is."

She threw him a surprised look before carrying on writing.

"What?! I know Ron really well; he's been my best friend for what, seven years? And I had a really interesting glimpse into his psyche last year. Besides, I'm not a complete insensitive prat! Even I could've picked up on that!"

She chuckled softly. "Okay, point taken. It's just that living with a family of teenage boys, you tend to have low expectations when it comes to blokes and… emotional stuff."

"You know, Hermione once accused Ron of having the emotional range of a teaspoon…" He felt his lips curl at the memory.

Ginny's cheeks lifted, but she didn't smile fully.

"Well, I'm not sure I agree with that, these days," she whispered, watching him from the corner of her eye.

Harry watched as Ron dragged a hand over his face, revealing a pale and anxious expression.

"No, I don't think she would, either."

It wasn't long before the class was dismissed, and Ginny planted a quick kiss on Harry's cheek, standing on her tiptoes.

"I need to run – my next class is on the other side of the other side of the castle. I'll see you at lunch." She turned and disappeared in a flurry of robes, red hair and sweet freesia scent.

He took his time packing away his belongings and waited for Ron and Hermione by the door.

They were the last people to leave, and Harry joined them as they moved down the corridor towards the common room, through crowds of younger students.

Apart from Ron and Hermione holding hands, Harry thought, it was just like the old days – including the stares and whispers of passers-by.

Ron's face was grave. He walked with his head down, his brow furrowed, determined to ignore the throng on either side of him.

"I didn't do it, Harry."

His voice was quiet, almost inaudible, and strangulated with emotion.

"I know that, you idiot. Of course you didn't." He tried to make his reaction light, offhand, but it didn't come out that way.

"But it looks like I did."

"There isn't anyone to back you up?" he asked.

"No. I was in bed all night. Didn't even get up to go to the loo. The other guys were asleep and as far as I know, they didn't get up at any point either. No witnesses."

Harry had been waiting for the panic and anxiety to come through in his speech, but instead, Ron just sounded depressed – utterly ground down by the whole thing. If not panic, he had been expecting anger – outrage or disgust.

A group of what Harry presumed were first years walked towards them, stopping talking as they came within hearing distance. Just as they passed by, they immediately broke into frenzied whispers.

"Do you think they know, already? They're talking about me, I can tell," he muttered.

"Yes, Ron, they probably are," came Hermione's gentle voice. "But probably because you're Ron Weasley, and you're walking alongside Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World! It's no different to the way they've been talking about you since we got back. I highly doubt anything has got around the school yet."

He looked up at her, eyebrows raised. "Really?"

She didn't respond straight away, and when she did, she changed the subject. "McGonagall seemed to believe you, didn't she?"

"Yeah. That's one thing, at least. D'you know what the worst thing is? Mum's going to hear about this. You know what she's like – she's practically omnipresent, nothing gets past her. And she's going to be so upset. She really doesn't need this."

"None of you do," Hermione murmured soothingly.

"Yeah, but… I got myself into this mess! Me! I was a stupid, rash idiot yesterday, and if I'd had the sense to keep my mouth shut, I wouldn't be looking like the most obvious suspect! Bloody hell, even I can't blame them for looking at me for this – in any other situation, I'd be saying the same!"

"Will you behave, Ron? You're starting to sound like Harry, with all that ridiculous self-blame rubbish!"

"Er, thanks, Hermione!" Harry said, in a quiet mock-outrage.

Ron shook his head and stopped dead in his tracks. "Look, I'm not really in the mood for this," he said shortly. "I'm going for a walk or something."

He turned in the opposite direction.

"Do you want me to come with you?" his girlfriend asked quickly.

"I'd rather be on my own, if it's all the same to you…"

"Are you sure that's wise, Ron?" Hermione's looked a little nervous.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, bemused, before a look of dawning realization washed over him. "Oh. Yeah. Maybe you should come with me. Don't want to be accused of anything else, do I? Better sort myself out with an alibi in advance."

For the first time, he sounded bitter about the whole situation.

He stalked off, back the way they'd come, with Hermione trailing after him, leaving Harry to walk back to the common room alone.

He had been out of his mind, imagining that this year could actually be peaceful and uneventful, he mused as he walked.

He had expected old prejudices to run deep when he came back to Hogwarts, but not in this way. If anything, he had steeled himself for Slytherin pupils to be even more obnoxious than he remembered, imagining that they would be deeply unhappy and frustrated with the outcome of the war and ready and willing to take it out on everyone else.

He hadn't really contemplated the idea that the very people he had fought alongside would be the ones to let hate and anger overtake them.

Ludicrous, really.

Fighting for "right" side didn't make you superhuman or perfect. It didn't erase the pain of loss or the need for payback. He'd been naïve to ever think it did. Maybe it was too much to ask of people, this magnanimous strength, in the face of so much loss.

As he climbed through the portrait hole, he was aware of conversations fading away into silence.

What a coincidence, he thought, I walk in and everyone shuts up – just like old times!

He kept his eyes down, determined not to draw any more attention to himself, and admitted grudgingly to himself that news of the Slytherin attack had made its way quickly through the school and to his own house. He could only imagine what they had been saying, and whom they had been saying it about, and he felt a perverse relief that he hadn't heard any of it. He knew he would have flown to Ron's defense, regardless of who was talking about the accusations, and more likely than not, good things would not have come of it.

He slid into a chair and started piling books and parchment onto the table in front of him, doggedly determined to keep his thoughts on the Potions chapters he was expected to read by the next class, and not on the pulsing, pointed silence around him.

His next lesson was Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Harry felt a sense of dread creep into him as the time to leave for class approached. The thought of Harper's smug expression still bothered him, and he anticipated that that same expression would still be there today, with added vengefulness and spite.

And he was right.

As he walked into the class, the first thing he was that irritating, self-satisfied sneer as Harper draped himself over a seat, angled towards the door so he could watch everyone arrive.

Harry's spirits lifted a modicum as he saw some purple and red bruising around the bridge of his nose, and he almost allowed himself a small smile before he realized it was all part of his plan. Harper could have easily healed it, or at the very least concealed it, but by leaving it as it was, flaunting it, almost, he was reminding everyone of what Ron had done – adding weight to the rumours that it was Ron who was responsible for the common room attack.

Very manipulative. Must've taken some lessons from Malfoy, back in the day, he thought.

He was the first to arrive at the desk he shared with the others, and as much as he wanted to turn in his seat to watch for them coming in, he couldn't bare the thought of catching Harper's eye. He fidgeted in his seat until Hermione arrived, looking distracted and harassed.

"I see Harper's bruises have done little to spoil his good looks. Oh – that's right – he didn't have any to start with!" she muttered as she emptied her bag. "Do you know I've already had a girl from Slytherin tell me how inappropriate it is for the Head Girl to be dating someone responsible for such a horrible attack? How I didn't hex her there and then is beyond me! Then Harper grinned at me as I walked in and I nearly lost my temper again…"

"I thought you'd be waiting for Ron?" Harry asked.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "I did try to, but apparently waiting outside the boy's loo's for him is taking things a bit far. I won't use his exact words, but he intimated I'd be better off waiting in here."

"He probably wants to walk in on his own, that's all. You know, show people he can still hold his head up high without the Head Girl holding his hand."

"It's not like that!" she said, sounding hurt. "I don't think he needs me to hold his hand! I just want to show solidarity, that's all, and give him some support."

"I know that, but you know what Ron's like – too proud for his own good, sometimes. It's a Weasley thing. He'll come round, don't worry, you just need to give him a chance to show people that he's got nothing to be ashamed of," he soothed.

Hermione just looked at him, half astonished, half impressed.

Exasperated, he laughed. "What?! Why do you girls keep looking at me like that whenever I say something right?"

She gave a wry smile. "Nothing. I just forget sometimes how much you've grown up, Harry."

"Oh, shut up!" he teased, good naturedly. "You sound like a proud mum or something!"

"Proud big sister, maybe! Someone had to look after you all these years, you know!" She gave him a playful nudge.

"You make it sound like I got into mischief quite a lot!"

"Mmm, just a bit!"

For a few seconds, the tension had almost lifted as they chuckled to themselves. But the all-too-brief spell was broken as Ginny stormed down the centre of the class and crashed her way into her seat, face like thunder.

"Can you believe the nerve of that disgusting little creep?! He winked at me! He actually winked at me as I walked past him!" Her voice was low, but her face was scarlet with temper. "The arrogant, loathsome, trouble-making … Do you know what, if so much as looks at me again I'm going to go one better than Ron and ram my wand up his – well, lets just say he'll be able to taste it by the time I've finished with him! How dare he?! After all he's said and done, how dare he just sit there, as if butter wouldn't melt! "She let out a furious sigh that sent tendrils of her hair flying around her face. "Where's Ron?"

As she spoke, the room fell silent.

Ron appeared at the doorway, face set into some kind of stony nonchalance, bag slung over one shoulder in a carefree manner. Harry almost would have bought the illusion, if he hadn't seen his hands clenched into fists inside his pockets. He walked at a leisurely pace, not looking from side to side but concentrating on a point in the mid distance.

As he approached Harper, the Slytherin boy curled one corner of his mouth into an ugly sneer and gave a soft snort of derision.

Ron stopped and turned to him slowly, with a look of practiced contempt which was pure Molly Weasley.

Silence.

Harper's expression wavered under Ron's glare, but he didn't look away. For a long moment, they held one another's gaze, before Ron turned back to the class and went to take his seat.

Harry's blood began to flow a little easier as Ron sat down with a feigned air of relaxation, but there was no mistaking what had just happened.

No one had spoken a word, no wands had been drawn, no blood shed, but the battle lines had been clearly and irrevocably drawn. Neither boy was willing to let this go.

"Are you alright?" Ginny murmured as Ron organized his desk.

"Fine," came the stiff reply.

There was no chance of following up Ron's terse answer as Bill entered the room, considerably earlier than he had had at the last lesson, obviously planning to keep tensions and possible altercations to a minimum.

He carried nothing but his wand, and wore a similar expression of determined focus as the one Ron had on his entry. "I trust I haven't missed anything today?" he said, with a cool smile, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, good, I do hate to be left out!"

There were one or two muffled sniggers, and the class was silent again.

"Right, let's jump straight into it today. We're going to be looking at the use of non-verbal spells in defensive magic and practicing their basic application. Before we begin, I want to make it perfectly clear that this will NOT be a chance for angry little boys and girls to get rid of any latent, pent-up aggression. You will be assigned partners for the practice session of the class, and just in case anyone was planning on any inter-house rivalry or cheap point scoring, your partner will be from your own house. Is that clear?" He spoke briskly, with such an air of confident authority that all the class could do in response was mutter a subdued 'Yes, sir' and stare at their desks.

"Wonderful. Now, who can name an advantage of non-verbal magic in a defensive situation?"

Hermione's hand shot up, right on cue.

"Miss Granger?"

"The element of surprise. Your opponent is unable to know what spell you are planning to use or the exact moment of which you plan to use it, and therefore will find it more difficult to dodge or deflect its effects." She didn't sound as confident as she normally did, and her voice had a slight tremble to it, making Harry ache a little.

This was Hermione's arena – her place of comfort where she excelled without ever needing to try – to hear her so tense and unsure of herself made him feel even worse than he already did. The stress of the situation was beginning to get to them all.

"Word perfect, well done. Can anyone describe a disadvantage of the technique?"

A Gryffindor girl from Ginny's year raised her hand to answer. "It's a lot harder to be accurate. Non-verbal spells are hard enough in normal every-day situations but when you're scared and under pressure, they can go wrong really easily."

Bill shrugged. "That WAS the answer I was looking for, but it's not always true, is it? Some people find the added pressure helps them to focus on the task at hand – clears their mind of all other distractions. You find some extra strength from within you that you never knew existed, because you just HAVE to. I mean, if I had spoken to this class eighteen months ago, would you have believed yourselves capable of battling and defeating Death Eaters who have years of experience in the Dark Arts?"

There was a general murmur of agreement.

"It's like Neville, isn't it?" the same girls asked. "We used to despair of him in the DA when it first started sometimes, even though we all knew he was trying his best, but when it came down to it, he was incredible! Like a different person! He ended up actually running the DA, standing up to Riddle, killing that snake… He was a hero!"

Harry could feel Ginny grinning and nodding next to him, filled with pride at the mention of Neville's achievements.

"Exactly, Laura! The pressure that can make these spells go all awry is the same pressure that can generate some truly powerful magic when we will it. If you turn to page 12 of the textbook you'll find some good tips on keeping your focus when using non-verbal magic…"

The class filled with the rustling of pages as everyone looked for the passage.

"Clever. Very clever," Hermione muttered as she leafed through the book.

"What do you mean?" Harry whispered.

"Bill. He knew this could have ended up being a very volatile lesson, what with everything that's happened, so he's used talk of the Battle and our own achievements to keep us focused on positive things. It's a way of raising morale."

Harry risked a glance at Harper, who was all but snarling in the back of the room. "It doesn't seem to be doing a lot for Harper's morale. In fact, it's just making him angrier."

"Maybe. But 98% of the students in here are now thinking of how strong we all are, how we came through something no one expected us to – not about the Slytherin attack. Given the nature of this lesson, this could easily have turned into a brawl. Bill's averted that without anyone even noticing!"

"Except us," said Ron, not looking up.

"And Harper," Harry added.

Ginny gave a nervous smile. "No one important, then."

That evening, they sat together in the common room with various books and homework around them, all being steadfastly ignored. All four were exhausted. The day had been filled with unspoken comments and snide glances from pupils of all houses, all taking superhuman effort to ignore.

Ron's silent despair had been draining. He'd shown no hint of anger or any other emotion since he had come face-to-face with Harper, and had sat like stone through all meals and lessons. Try as she might, Hermione could elicit no response from him that didn't come in a monotone, and she had eventually admitted defeat, simply leaning her head against his shoulder and stroking his hand.

It was still early when he stood wearily. "I'm going to bed," he announced, placing a chaste kiss on Hermione's cheek before trudging away towards the boy's dormitory.

For a moment or two, Hermione looked around her, lost and worried, before brushing her hands over her face, taking a deep breath and sitting up straighter in her chair.

"Right then, what are we going to do?"

Harry and Ginny looked at her, unsure of what to say.

"Come on! We have to do something!" Her eyes searched theirs, their concern betraying her business-like demeanor. "Ron is crushed! Someone is responsible for this terrible thing, and we all know it isn't him. Every piece of logic points towards his guilt, everyone assumes it's him, and they'll carry on doing so until we find out the truth!"

Ginny nodded. "You're right. We've solved bigger mysteries than this in the past, this should be easy. Right, Harry?" He nodded enthusiastically. "One small question, though – do you have ANY idea how we're going to start?"

Hermione coloured slightly. "Well, no. Not yet. But I know somewhere that never fails to inspire me…" she said, rising.

"The library?" they asked in unison.

"However did you guess?" she grinned, and she disappeared in a flurry of hair and robes.

Harry and Ginny were left alone, too tired to talk, to preoccupied to want to be alone. After a while, Harry remembered the badge in his pocket.

He fished it out and held it in his open palm, nudging her.

"McGonagall asked me to pass this along to you this morning. Something you want to tell me, Miss Weasley?" he teased.

"Oh. Yes. I forgot about that. I'm Quidditch captain this year," she said, without much enthusiasm.

"No, really(!) Why didn't you tell me, Gin? We could have celebrated! Merlin knows, there's never enough to celebrate these days!"

She shrugged disinterestedly.

"Ginny! Come one! This is great news!"

"Suppose so."

He tilted her face towards him. "Yes. It is. So why the silence? Why the long face?"

She looked away and shrugged again. "I just… felt bad. It should have been you."

Harry shook his head, not understanding. "What do you mean?"

"You're back now – this should be your job, not mine. You're the best player we have. I felt awful that you didn't get it. You ended up being browbeaten into the Head Boy thing and I ended up with the only badge you cared about or wanted! It seems so unfair."

"That's rubbish! Did you really think I'd hold it against you? I'm thrilled for you! You're going to do a brilliant, and it's not as if I won't get to play, is it? In fact, you'll do a far better job than me – no hoards of curious nosy parkers trying to get on the team just because of who's in charge, no detentions keeping you from vital matches…" He nudged her again and grinned.

She fidgeted slightly and looked at him from under her lashes. "You really don't mind?"

"Absolutely not."

"Oh, that's fantastic!" she cried, sitting up. "I've been dying to tell you, Harry – really! I've been so excited, and then so ashamed and guilty for being so excited, and nervous and full of ideas! I've been bursting to talk to someone about it!"

He laughed at her sudden enthusiasm. "Well, here I am. Like I said, we don't get enough good news so feel free to ramble away unchecked!"

"Believe me, I will! This is so important for me, Harry! For once, I won't be another poor Weasley, or someone's sister, or Harry Potter's girlfriend – not that I mind being any of those things! But for once, I'll just be Ginny Weasley – good at something in her own right!"

He grinned, and stroked her face. "You deserve it. Enjoy it. You'll be brilliant."

She giggled back at him. "Enough with the flattery, Potter! You'll have to try out, same as all the others, on Saturday! No preferential treatment from me, no matter what you try!"

He gave a mock-sulk. "Really? Not anything?" He leaned forward and kissed her gently. "Not even this?"

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer. "Well, it's worth a try…" she breathed.


End file.
